


To Trust Love

by Laughsalot3412



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, BAMF Alex Manes, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Join me in my Malex meltdown, M/M, Mind Rape, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, not between our boys, our boys are trying to be good to one another in a Bad Situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laughsalot3412/pseuds/Laughsalot3412
Summary: The prisoner’s voice sounded like home. He could have been raised in Roswell, the way his accent stretched his vowels. He definitely hadn’t been. Alex would have remembered eyes like those.(AU where Alex Manes goes on an undercover rescue mission in Caulfield Prison and forms a bond with one of the prisoners in the process.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All I wanted was some Malex hurt/comfort with some pod squad thrown in. And now I have 12000 words with more on the way....help me. 
> 
> Title from the Maya Angelou quote: “Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

It had taken Alex Manes three days to decide to commit treason.

It had felt like an irrationally short time to turn his back on his career, but now, halfway through his Caulfield briefing packet, he was ashamed it had taken him that long. Because this place? This place was as much of a nightmare as they’d feared.

Alex might be missing a leg but his brain worked just fine, thanks. He knew human rights violations when he saw them, no matter how vaguely and officially described.

_Human_ rights. Ha. There was an unfunny joke in there somewhere.

“Everything alright?”

Alex snapped his attention back to Flint. Damn, he’d forgotten how sharp his brother’s eyes were. They stared him down from across the office where Flint sat at his own desk.

“Fine.” Alex closed the file. “Just hoping for a more hands-on introduction to what I’ll be doing.”

Flint was unreadable. He’d always been like that, no matter how hard their father’s belt had landed, no matter who it had been aimed at.

And, dammit, Alex really needed his brain to _not_ go down that rabbit hole right now.

He was a captain with an honorable discharge. He’d lobbied for and received a job in Caulfield Prison. There was a plan.

His father did not hit him with belts anymore.

“I still can’t believe Dad let you in on the family secret,” Flint said.

“He didn’t. I figured most of it out myself because I got tired of being in the dark.”

It sounded childish as soon as it left his mouth, something a little brother would say. Alex cringed inwardly. This place, standing firmly on the Manes Family Legacy, was throwing him more off balance than he’d expected.

There was a plan.

“Let’s take a walk,” Flint said. He stood and Alex followed, walking carefully on the new prosthetic. He hadn’t wanted his brother to see him with a crutch on his first day. Walking slowly was a reasonable price to pay to eliminate something Flint would have seen as weakness.

They walked down the hallway, Flint bypassing the elevator in favor of the two flights of stairs that led to the cellblock. Alex set his teeth and didn’t let his leg so much as tremble on the way down.

“The prison has a fully automated security system, so we run skeleton shifts,” Flint said, throwing the words casually over his shoulder. “Three guards on base, one guard on duty. We’re basically backup for the doctors when they run tests on the subjects.”

Subjects. There was so much wrapped up in that one little word.

“I saw that.”

“We used to be a bigger operation, but now that we’re down to three subjects the brass pared down our personnel.”

Alex knew what had happened to the other ‘subjects’. Kyle fucking Valenti had found the reports buried in his dad’s papers. He’d shown them to Liz Ortecho, who, it turned out, had been secretly looking into some weird biomedical data that she couldn’t source. When Liz’s mystery data matched up with Kyle’s freaky lab reports, they’d both turned up at Alex’s cabin.

Alex had just learned that aliens existed and that his father was running Project Shephard. He’d been in a receptive state of mind to hear about government conspiracies.

They reached the bottom of the stairs when Flint’s radio sounded. “Guard patrol?”

Flint responded immediately. “This is Manes, go for guard patrol.”

The woman’s voice on the radio was light and easy. “Hey there Manes, we’re prepping lab two now. Could you fetch us a subject when you have a moment?”

“Yes, Dr. Bates. Which subject?”

“Oh, surprise me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Flint didn’t say anything, but the unhappy set of his shoulders read as “god save me from civilians.”

Alex filed that away.

“I guess you’ll really get to see how it’s done,” Flint said.

“Guess so.”

The stairwell needed a code to exit. Alex memorized it before remembering that would be provided for him. He had to keep reminding himself that no one else knew why he was here.

The cellblock was surprisingly spacious, built out of New Mexico stone and set with high windows that let in the sunlight. The cell doors were glass, so it was easy to see that they were all empty except for the three at the end of the hallway.

The aliens in the cells looked completely human. The woman was tall, with blonde hair that hung long down her back. She stared over their heads, like Alex and Flint were entirely beneath her notice.

 Across the hallway from her were two men in cells of their own, one dark-haired and sturdy, the other lean with sandy curls. The dark-haired one glowered at them, hands in furious fists.

The one with curly hair leaned against his cell door. He watched Alex with eyes that were so, so human. When he saw Alex looking back, he offered a casual middle finger.

It almost surprised a smile out of him in this godawful place. But there was a plan, and Alex needed to play the part for it to work. He turned his attention back to Flint. “So, the cells block their powers.”

“Soundproof too.”

“How do we keep them contained during transport?”

“The doctors created a serum that keeps them docile. Part of the job is to keep them dosed.” Flint pulled out a syringe from a pouch on his uniform. “One stick when you take ‘em out and you’re good.”

For the first time that day, there was animation in Flint’s face. He looked…expectant? Excited, even. His posture was loose and more confident, like he was finally in a place where he felt comfortable.

Dread crept over Alex. Flint looked like their father right before he handed out one of his punishments. Every time a Manes man had power, they ended up with that look.

“Who will be our lucky winner today?” Flint turned in a way that was almost playful and moved towards the woman’s cell. “Let’s see how B-1 is feeling about--”

A body crashed into the cell door behind Alex. It took all his training not to jump out of his skin.

The man with the curls had thrown himself against his door, hammering on it with his fists. He was obviously yelling something, and it was obviously not flattering.

Flint turned and stalked towards him, his first target forgotten. “Of course it’s this one.” He glanced at Alex, inviting him into the joke. “It’s always this one.”

The prisoner backed away from the door with his hands up, calm in a way that told Alex he’d known exactly what he’d been doing. The woman in the cell confirmed it. She smacked her palms against the glass, cool detachment forgotten. She was saying something over and over again that no one could hear.

Alex felt like he couldn’t breathe. He was in combat again and there were no good choices, no options, no way out.

He didn’t want to be a part of this.

The plan. The plan.

Flint opened a hatch in the door. “B-3. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

The man smirked. “What can I say, Manes? I pine when we’re apart.”

“Arm through the hole.”

“Oh yes _sir_.”

B-3’s voice sounded like home. He could have been raised in Roswell, the way his accent stretched his vowels. He definitely hadn’t been. Alex would have remembered eyes like those.

The prisoner offered his arm through the hatch in the door, but he looked at Alex. “Manes, are you cheating on me already? Was it not good for-- _fuck!_ ”

Flint had stabbed him in the soft crook of his arm. He drew the needle out without injecting it, his other hand striking out to hold B-3’s arm in place. “Whoops,” he said, and stabbed the needle in again.

“Flint.” Alex used his captain voice. The one that said don’t-fucking-mess-with-me.

His brother injected the serum. “Couldn’t find a vein,” he said casually.

Tendrils of blood snaked down the prisoner’s arm as he swayed on his feet. Whatever the serum was, it obviously worked fast.

“Hands together,” Flint ordered. The prisoner complied and was roughly snapped into handcuffs. When Flint opened the door, he moved unsteadily into the hallway.

He managed a smile for the woman in the other cell. “Isobel,” he said, though he had to know she couldn’t hear him.

She mouthed a word back to him.

Flint gave him a shove. “Move.”

Their captive walked slowly past the cell where the dark-haired man had pressed himself up against the glass. B-3 stared at him like he was drinking in the sight. “Max,” he said.

The other man said a word. That same word.

It occurred to Alex that it would be impossible to see someone in the cell next door, except in snatches like this.

Alex clasped his hands behind his back as he walked to keep them from shaking.

Flint led the way, leaving Alex to walk beside the prisoner. When B-3 directed his smile at him, it had turned to pure poison. “My hero.”

Alex could only shake his head.

“Oh sweetheart, _sure_ you were. Some long, lonely guard shift you should let me make it up to you.”

Flint whirled around and cracked the prisoner across the face, sending him stumbling sideways. Alex caught him by the arm before he fell.

“Disgusting,” Flint muttered, already moving again.

Alex fought down a hysterical laugh. Their prisoner had just propositioned his guard and Flint’s only problem was that they were both men. Consent and ethics be damned, apparently.   

B-3 was tense in his grip and Alex let go immediately. His hand was smeared with blood from the man’s arm. “You good to walk?”

“I am so good.” The words had the same venom as his smile.

_I’m here to get you out,_ Alex wanted to say. _I’m one of the good guys._

Instead, he said, “Then let’s go.”

 

 

* * * *

 

So yeah, the lab was terrible. The lab was always fucking terrible, so much blood and so much screaming.

Michael had given up bravery in the labs years ago. Now he screamed whenever he damn well felt like screaming, because fuck them. He’d read an article for AP Bio that had said expressing pain helped to reduce it. If he ever got out of this hellhole, he was going to write to the author and tell him that his findings were only correct to a point.

Today there was an IV of serum that burned through him like fire. Michael didn’t know what it was or why they were injecting him with it. He’d used to care about those kinds of questions in the beginning. Now the only thing he cared about was the fact that it wasn’t Isobel or Max strapped to this table.

Isobel and Max. His siblings’ names were the shield he wove around his mind to keep out the pain. He’d learned the trick of it long before Caulfield, but it had served him well in here.

Isobel and Max weren’t burning from the inside, so things were okay.

Michael loosened his grip on consciousness and let himself drift. The doctors ran their tests and took their readings. Some indeterminate time later, the fire faded to a manageable level and Dr. Bates snapped her fingers in front of Michael’s face.

“Are you with me?”

Ugh, no. He kept his eyes resolutely shut. Dammit, he ached _everywhere_.

“We’re done here,” Dr. Bates said to someone. “You can unstrap him and take him back.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Michael’s head was still fuzzy enough that he couldn’t place the voice right away. It wasn’t Flint Manes’ clipped coldness. It wasn’t Wyatt Long’s drawl.

Cool hands unbuckled the restraints and Michael remembered the new guard, mister grabby mcgrabber. Yeah, fuck that guy.

Hopefully not literally, but hey, Michael did what he had to do around here.

“Can you sit up?” the guard asked. His voice slipped low under the bustle of the doctors packing up their equipment for the day.

The strange tone of it tugged Michael’s eyes open. He blinked against the glare of the lab until the man’s face came into focus. There were tension lines around his eyes and mouth, like he was keeping his expression very firmly in check.

Aw, maybe the newbie hadn’t expected human experimentation on his first day. Poor baby.

Michael finally noticed the name on the man’s uniform. He choked out a laugh. “Another Manes? What, is violating the Geneva Convention a family pastime or something?”

“Or something,” mini Manes said. He offered a hand.

Michael ignored it and forced himself to sit upright on the table. He panted there for a few seconds. There was no way he could walk back to his cell right now, so he stalled for time. “How am I supposed to keep you straight?”

“That ship’s sailed,” the guard said, and then immediately looked like he wanted to punch himself in the face.

Michael was exhausted and in pain and drugged, and _that_ was why he snickered.

Manes offered him a hesitant smile--just a lift of the corner of his mouth. “I’m Alex Manes, if that helps. What about you?”

Michael’s humor vanished. This man had watched him get tortured for the past few hours. He did not get to ask a question like that. “What about me?”

Manes was still offering that tentative smile. “Your name can’t actually be B-3.”

“Science experiments don’t have names,” Michael said flatly. He wished he had the power to burn this monster to a crisp.

Manes opened his mouth, but Dr. Bates chose that time to call out: “Pack it up, team. I want to get home to see my cat.”

“Can you walk?” Manes asked instead.

When the alternative was having this man drag him? “Yes.”

“Okay. Please hold out your hands.”

When Manes cuffed him, it didn’t hurt. Michael wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

He did know how he felt about the lack of Flint Manes on the walk back: very positively. Alex Manes might be an overly-familiar asshole, but he had yet to punch Michael into a wall. That time would come, no doubt sooner rather than later, but for now the newbie was firmly rated above his brother for prisoner transport.

Manes matched his shuffling pace without complaint. He didn’t try to speak again.

Michael felt himself ease a fraction when they made it back to the cellblock. It was stupid---lots of bad things had happened to him in this hallway, it wasn’t safe. But it also wasn’t the labs. Plus, he could see Isobel, and he could press his back against the wall and pretend to feel Max.

He fought the urge to slow even further as he approached Max’s cell. The need to see his brother was constant, but his body was so sore already and he didn’t want a beatdown for lingering. It took seven seconds to walk past Max’s cell. That would have to be enough today.

Max dashed across his cell when he saw them, resting his fists against the glass like he wanted to punch his way out and get to him. The thought put a smile on Michael’s face. No matter how different they were, he knew his brother loved him.

And then, a miracle happened.

Manes tapped his shoulder. “Wait.”

Michael turned towards him, confused.

The guard’s face was impassive. “I want to check your restraints.”

His cell was literally three feet away, there was absolutely no reason for this. But Max was in front of him and the seconds were ticking away, so Michael offered his hands wordlessly and turned his attention to his brother.

Max looked…okay. Some bruises and needle marks, but no bones were out of place and he wasn’t bleeding. Still, Michael could see the darkness in his eyes. Max had always been the sweet one with his books and his poetry. It hurt to see that gentleness gone. 

Well, maybe not gone. It was there as Max stared at him through the glass. His fists uncurled and he pressed his palms against the door. He mouthed something, and then again, slower so that Michael could catch it: _are you okay?_

Michael shrugged as best he could with the guard holding his bound hands off to the side. He raised his eyebrows in a way that meant, _are you?_

Max nodded, gesturing between them. _Now that I’m seeing you._

For the first time in god knew how long, Michael felt like he could breathe. Max was hardwired in Michael’s brain to equal safety. Even though there was no safety in Caulfield, seeing Max gave the illusion of it.

Max pointed over Michael’s shoulder. When he turned, he saw Isobel watching them, tears in her eyes. She gave a little wave.

He loved them.

He loved them.

Max knocked on the glass to get his attention. He was back in serious mode, frowning, spreading his hands out like he was asking a question. Michael shook his head, confused. Max tipped his head to the side, towards…

Oh.

Right.

Michael had been in this hallway for so much longer than seven seconds. And the guard who’d allowed that was standing off to the side, quietly checking his handcuffs.

Michael’s handcuffs were still fine, thanks.

Max looked worried now, eyes darting between Manes and Michael. Michael swallowed down his own panic. Guards never did favors for free.

It was worth it, he decided. Whatever Manes wanted---and he was pretty sure he knew what the guy wanted---seeing his siblings was always worth it.

He mustered up a smile for Max and shook his head. _Don’t worry about it._

Max shook his head back. Of course he would worry.

Still, there was no point in running up his tab. Michael turned to Manes and said, “So you have a thing for guys in handcuffs, huh?”

The guard met his gaze mildly. “Just making sure everything is secure. You ready?”

The panic grabbed at Michael’s throat again. No, he wasn’t. “Hell yes. Let’s do this.”

When Manes opened his cell, the panic got worse. Isobel could see into this cell. The thought of her seeing this made him want to scream.

“You know, this bunk is awfully uncomfortable,” he said, easing his way in the ask.

Manes uncuffed him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Then he shut the door behind Michael and walked away.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

The last time Alex had cried, he’d been in a military hospital in Germany looking at what was left of his leg. It took a lot to make a Manes cry, and damn if he didn’t feel like he was reaching that point as he drove back to Roswell after his first shift. Tomorrow he would move into Caulfield and live there for a week at a time. But thank whatever god was watching over him, because he needed to be out of there like he needed air.

When he got to his cabin, it was full of warm light and the smell of homemade enchiladas. He paused in the doorway and took in the sight of Liz and Kyle fucking Valenti bickering in his kitchen.

“That’s not the way my mom does it,” Kyle insisted.

“My father literally owns a restaurant. Let me make the damn sauce!”

Valenti was the first one to see him. Alex wasn’t sure what expression was on his face, but it couldn’t have been anything good because it immediately sent Kyle into doctor mode.

“Hey man,” he said, tone gentle. “Why don’t you close the door? You’re letting the good smells out.”

Liz was suddenly there, her small hands on Alex’s. He pulled them away before remembering that he had washed off B-3’s blood already.

“Alex?” she said.

He focused. God, he couldn’t fall apart. This was only the first day of the mission. “Sorry, what?”

Liz was searching his face. “I was going to ask how it went, but I don’t think I have to.”

“We were right, weren’t we?” Kyle had moved close too. It maybe should have been alarming, but honestly, trusting his former best friend had been an easy habit to fall back into.

Sitrep. He could do that. “Yes, we were right. There are three aliens left, all in high-security containment. Conditions unacceptable. I recommend immediate extraction.”

Kyle’s voice was quiet when he asked, “Are they hurting them?”

Alex could hear the prisoner’s screams in his head like he’d pressed play. He’d heard men scream like that on the battlefield. That was how Alex had sounded when the IED took his leg.

“Yes,” Alex said.

“We’re going to get them out,” Liz said. She moved like was about to hug him, but Alex stepped back.

“That place is a fortress. And even if I can find a way to bypass security, those three are never going to come with me.”

“Just tell them you’re Luke Skywalker and you’re there to rescue them.”

Kyle said, “I don’t know what that means, but telling them right away might be a bad idea.”

“I know,” Alex said heavily.

Liz frowned at them both. “What? Why?”

Alex loved her for not having the brain of a total bastard. “They’ll think I’m a plant to get them in trouble. Or if they think I’m telling the truth, they might expose me in exchange for some kind of security.”

“But you’re trying to get them out.”

“They’re not going to believe that, Liz, I’m putting handcuffs on them!”

“People usually prefer the devil they know,” Kyle said gently.

Liz poked Alex in the chest. “So win them over first. You’re the kindest person I know. They’re going to see that eventually.”

“Today I watched someone get tortured and just stood there. Would you trust someone after that?”

She looked at him firmly. “Maybe. If it was you.”

Alex didn’t know what to say to that.

Liz and Kyle made him eat dinner while they discussed plans. Kyle was preparing for after the escape, figuring out how to reintroduce three people into society so that the government wouldn’t find them. Liz was in full-on heist mode. She’d found blueprints of Caulfield Prison and everything.

“I’ll find you an exit route,” she said, staring at the blueprints on the table. “Then you’ll know what camera feeds to hack into.”

“You know I’m a codebreaker, not a hacker,” Alex said. 

Liz had a pencil in one hand and a fork of enchiladas in the other. She nibbled on the pencil and didn’t seem to notice. “But you can hack, so I’m unclear on whether that matters right now.”

“It doesn’t, I guess.”

“Are you packed?”

Alex didn’t want to think about sleeping in Caulfield. “No.”

“Finish your dinner and we’ll help.”

Kyle raised his eyebrows. “I’m not touching your underwear.”

“In your dreams,” Alex said, and felt a little lighter when Kyle laughed.

That night, after Kyle and Liz had left and Alex lay in his bed, he tried not to think about the prisoners. B-3 had said his cot was uncomfortable.

It was only fair that Alex couldn’t sleep either, then.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so?? incredible?? Thanks for all the kind comments and kudos!   
> Um, here's some more angst.

When Alex arrived at Caulfield the next day, it wasn’t his brother waiting for him in the command center.

The guy had a narrow face that gave the impression of a sneer, even when he smiled. “Hey hey, here he is! Our fresh meat!”

“Hi,” Alex said, offering a hand. “Alex Manes.”

“Wyatt Long.” The guy shook his hand firmly. “Nice to see the good master sergeant is keeping this whole thing in the family.”

“That’s right,” Alex said, forcing a smile. “Though you seem to have made the cut. Just that good, I guess.”

Wyatt Long was an easy man to win over. A few compliments and some nods of agreement about those ‘damn freaks’, and Alex was in his good books. From his overly-chatty rambling, Alex managed to learn that the prison cameras were constantly recording, but that no one actually went through the footage unless there was a good reason. That was a stroke of luck.

He finally got Wyatt to shut up long enough to poke through the computer. Guards had a lot of clearance around here, so he didn’t even have to hack into the subject files.

Max Evans. Isobel Evans. Michael Guerin. All American citizens, no criminal records. Nothing that would even attempt to justify the kind of violence he’d seen here.

Well, at least he could stop calling them by their stupid designations, anyway.

“I’m going for lunch,” Wyatt said. Alex quickly closed the documents. “New guy gets the crap shift, sorry dude.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

Alex would have literally fought to keep Wyatt away from the prisoners.

Wyatt had just left when Alex’s radio crackled on his shoulder. “This is Dr. Bates, can someone bring B-3 to the lab, please?”

It was a cold reminder that he couldn’t protect people in here, not if he wanted to get them out. Still, he wasn’t helpless. The rift between the guards and the scientists was something he planned to exploit, and now was the perfect time to start. “Hey, this is Alex in guard station. I’d be happy to bring him over.”

Dr. Bates’ chuckle came through the radio. “Wow, that was actually friendly! Nice to have you onboard, Alex.”

“Right back at you, ma’am. I’ll see you in twenty.”

On the monitor, Michael Guerin was lying on his uncomfortable cot, one arm pillowed under his head. His mouth was moving--talking to himself? No. _Singing._

Alex stared for a few seconds. “Dammit,” he muttered. “Dammit, dammit.”

After a quick detour to his new quarters, he used the elevator to get to the cells. He walked down the hallway as purposefully as he could with the awkward bundle in his arms and knocked on the door of Michael’s cell.

The man sprang to his feet, but his wariness was tempered with bewilderment when he saw what Alex was holding.

Alex unlocked the hatch in the door and Michael said, “You planning to smother me?”

“You said your cot was uncomfortable.”

“So you brought me pillows.”

Alex shifted. “Yes.”

Michael’s expression had settled into that mask of sardonic amusement. “Okay.”

“Dr. Bates wants to see you.”

“Who could blame her?” Michael gestured to himself. “I’m a snack.”

Alex knew about covering fear with humor, so he matched Michael’s light tone. “You’re the whole buffet table, don’t sell yourself short.”

“I sell myself for the exact right amount, soldier.” Michael’s eyes hardened even as his smile grew. “What are you offering?”

Ooh boy, Alex had fucked that one up.

“The pillows are free,” he said, trying to salvage it.

“Uh huh. Well, hand them over, then.”

Alex’s pillows were old and squished. They weren’t hard to jam through the slot in the door. Michael tossed them on his cot and turned a challenging gaze on him. “So now what?”

“I’m going to need your arm for the injection. Sorry.”

“Gee, you being sorry makes such a difference.”

The tone threatened to spark Alex’s temper, but he let it blow over him. Michael had every right to assume the worst.

Michael Guerin stuck his arm through the hatch. It was the one Flint had mangled yesterday. Bloody bruises marked the soft skin.

“Other arm,” Alex said.

“Oh my god.” Michael offered his left arm instead.

“Make a fist, please.”

“Kinky.”

Alex had gotten enough field medicine training to know his way around a needle. He tapped the skin to find the vein. Needles didn’t have to hurt if you used them right.

Michael was tense now, bracing himself when he saw Alex pull out the syringe.

“So, you’re Michael Guerin, right?”

When Michael’s eyes widened in surprise, Alex slipped the needle in and pressed the plunger.

“How the hell did you know that?” Michael demanded, thoroughly distracted.

Alex pocketed the syringe. “I started reading your file. Can I call you Michael?”

“You sure as hell cannot,” the man spat.

“How about Guerin, then? I can’t keep calling you B-3.”

The serum was working now. The fight drained out of Guerin along with all the color in his face. “Whatever.”

The hopelessness in his voice hit Alex in the place where he stored memories of his father. He understood that type of acceptance, the kind that had to be beaten into your bones. It shook him, like everything about Michael Guerin shook him.

It made him say, “If you tell me not to do something, I’ll try not to do it.”

“Don’t take me to the lab.”

“I wish I didn’t have to.” 

Guerin wavered on his feet. “Choices,” he murmured. “It’s all choices.”

Alex opened the cell door. “I’m going to cuff your hands now.”

Guerin offered them up silently.

“Can you walk?”

He nodded.

Alex slowed when they walked past Max Evans, but Guerin didn’t. He stole a quick look before sliding his eyes away and continuing down the hall. He looked grey and sick, the serum clearly hitting him harder today than yesterday.

The walked in silence until the lab door loomed ahead of them. Guerin said, “Don’t read any more of my file. If you’ve got questions about me, ask me.”

“I can do that,” Alex said, surprised and pleased. “Absolutely. But can I ask you for something in return?”

Guerin’s mouth twisted. “Fucking finally, you’ve been pussyfooting around this for--”

“Ask me questions too. I’ll answer.”

Guerin searched his face, and Alex forced himself to keep his expression open. He wanted Michael Guerin to not be afraid of him. He wanted this man to _see_ him.

Guerin shook his head slowly. “What is your deal, Manes?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. I’ll figure that one out myself.”

 

 

* * * *

 

So, Michael’s life had gotten fucking weird.

Alex Manes was fucking weird.

The man just didn’t fit in Caulfield. His gentle hands and earnest eyes belonged to the world of the past that had been ripped from them.

Michael thought about it while he was strapped to the lab table. It was less awful today--no burning serum, just tests to see how his body had reacted to the round yesterday. (Answer: awful.) The scientists weren’t as good with the needle as Alex had been. That had been a slick move, distracting him so that he hadn’t even felt the sting.

Michael had learned long before Caulfield that kindness was never free. Alex must want something. Michael had assumed it was sex, but that fish was not biting.

Michael literally had nothing else to give. He needed Alex to realize that and stop being kind. He needed that to happen now, today, before his messed up brain started to look for kindness. Michael had read psychology textbooks, okay? He knew abused kids had a tendency to look for love in all the wrong places.

Isobel and Max were the only people in his life who had offered him gentleness without expectation. He needed to not let a soft touch and a pretty face distract him from that.

The scientists were buzzing about something. As long as they weren’t injecting him with that stuff again, Michael honestly couldn’t care less.

Alex Manes had made nice with Dr. Bates before stationing himself at the doorway. If Michael strained, he could raise his head enough to see him. The man looked carved out of stone, like he’d never had a soft thought in his life. The blankness on his face chilled him.

This was the truth of Alex Manes. It had to be. Michael spent the rest of the time in the lab concocting a plan to make the truth stick.

 

 

It was easy to push people over the edge. All you had to do was find the things they hated about themselves and lean in hard. Michael hadn’t spent a childhood in foster care without learning how to make authority figures lose their shit in five minutes flat.

Once Alex had cuffed him again and led him into the hallway, Michael began.

“So, you’re a Manes.”

“Yes.”

“I bet your daddy’s real proud of you.”

“Doubtful,” Alex said shortly. Score on his first shot, damn he was good.

“Aw, c’mon. You’ve still got the one leg. Look at you now! Basically a glorified mall cop, but you still get to wear the uniform.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Is there a question in there?”

“There is, actually, thanks. Does your family know you take the elevator instead of the stairs?”

It was an educated guess, but a correct one. He could see it in Alex’s eyes.

“Yikes. They know you’re weak, you know,” Michael said casually. “I heard Flint talking about you before you transferred in. You can’t hide from family--they always know the truth.”

“You don’t know anything about my family.”

Bullseye.

“I know your dad brought you into the family business last. Flint’s been in the know for years. Why do you think that is?”

Alex stopped, turning to face Michael full-on. He had a flush on his cheeks and his mouth was pinched tight.

Every nerve in Michael’s body thrummed with expectation of pain. He savored it in advance---this was the reminder he needed.

 But Alex didn’t hit him.

Instead, he let out a breath and met Michael’s eyes. “Look, my family has always thought I’m weak. Turns out two tours in Iraq doesn’t compensate for liking guys and music.”

Michael’s brain was scrambling for footing. Alex still wasn’t hitting him.

“You done?” Alex asked. “Because we should get back.”

So that’s what they did, as if the conversation hadn’t happened.

He’d made Alex angry, he knew he had. Maybe the man was just biding his time?

Back in his cell, Michael watched the Alex leave and then return with the meal cart. The guards were in charge of shoving the MRE packs through the hatches twice a day. Michael started to relax. Mealtime was a great way to get revenge. No one checked to be sure the guard didn’t “accidentally” forget to feed a prisoner.

Protocol said to open the hatch in the cell, throw in the MRE, and close the hatch until it was finished.

Michael watched Alex open the hatch of Isobel’s cell, throw in the MRE, and then move on to Michael’s cell. The hatches remained open.

Alex started sorting the supplies on the cart as if he hadn’t noticed.

What. The. Fuck.

Michael’s eyes met Isobel’s. A hatch wasn’t big enough to allow any kind of escape. But…

“Guys?”

…it could allow a conversation.

There was a breathless pause where they all waited for Alex to stop them. Michael couldn’t look away from Isobel, his terrible hope mirrored on her face.

Alex kept silently sorting his supplies. He was giving this to them. Michael had tried to get the guy to beat his face in, and instead he’d done this.

He would revisit the mystery of Alex Manes later. Right now, his time with his siblings was running out.

Michael shoved his face against the hatch and whispered. “Max?”

“Michael!”

And then they were all talking, voices overlapping and mingling.

“What were you singing last night, I couldn’t--“

“--they do to you?”

“Man, I need you to tell me--”

“Okay, okay, hang on! Shut up for a second!” That was Max, all familiar confidence. “I can’t hear!”

Michael pressed his face against the glass and closed his eyes. “I never thought I’d miss the sound of you bossing us around.”

“And what do you know, I actually don’t miss it.” Isobel sounded like she had designed this situation herself.

“Guys…”

“I’m the only sister, so technically I should get to talk first.”

Max sounded so fond when he said, “She’s got a point. Ladies first.”

“Well. I don’t actually have anything special to say.” Isobel’s voice skidded out of control on the last few words. Michael’s eyes flew open to look at her. 

Max jumped in. “Aw, Isobel, we know.”

Michael tapped the glass. “C’mon, if you start crying, I’m gonna start crying. And hand to god, nobody wants that.”

Isobel sniffed. “You always were an ugly crier.”

“Rude, but fair.”

She shook her head. “You both sound exactly the same. It’s been so long, I thought…”

“Me too,” Max said softly.

Michael loved them so much.

Alex Manes cleared his throat and made a show of checking his watch. Time was up.

“Max,” Michael said. “Isobel.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes?”

His throat was tight. He blinked water from his eyes. “Nothing. Just, you know, saying it when you can actually hear me.”

“Michael,” Max said, understanding.

“Michael,” Isobel repeated.

Michael scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Shit. Guys, you should eat.”

“We will if you will,” Isobel said.

“And I’m hungry, so don’t be a stubborn asshole, please,” Max added.

“Wow. I forgot how annoying you both are.” Michael ripped open the bag and swallowed a bite of room-temperature ravioli.

“He’s eating,” Isobel reported. “Go ahead, Max.”

“Snitch.”

“Well, I love you.”

“Love you too.” Michael was incapable of saying anything else.

Silence. Then Max’s words, slightly mushy, “I love you guys too, but my mouth is full of noodles.”

It was the first time he’d laughed in so long. 

They barely finished stuffing their faces when Alex Manes collected their dinner packets. Michael heard the hatches of his siblings’ cells shut one by one.

Alex saved him for last. Michael was waiting for him at the door, empty food packet clutched in his hand.

“So, I have a question for you,” Alex said, as if this had been a totally normal mealtime. “If that’s okay.”

“Uh, yes?” This man had given him Max and Isobel’s voices. He could have any damn thing he wanted.

“Who taught you to get someone angry to see if they’ll hurt you?”

It was so unexpected that it felt right. Nothing about Alex Manes was ever what he expected. Deep in his stupid, traitorous brain, something purred.

“My first foster mom.”

Alex nodded, like that was to be expected.

What was happening right now? “Look, I--”

“I’m not going to hit you.” Alex Manes fixed him with that kind, honest gaze. “I’m not going to starve you or hurt the others while you watch. I’m not going to make the handcuffs too tight and pretend to forget to take them off.”

Fuck, _fuck_ , how did this man know that? How could he _possibly_?

“I’m here to help.”  

“I don’t trust you,” Michael said desperately.

“That’s okay. I wouldn’t trust me either.” There was a wry, self-deprecating twist to the words.

“What do you want from me?” Michael said. He pressed himself close to the glass, trying to see the truth like it was written on the man’s skin. “Just tell me.”

“I want you to get some sleep. You look terrible, Guerin.” Michael’s distress must have been obvious, because Alex relented. “Nothing, okay? Sometimes people just want to help.”

“Not in my experience.”

“Yeah.” Alex rubbed his hand through his hair, looking suddenly tired. “Actually, not in mine either. I thought we could try it out. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

Michael wasn’t sure if that felt like a promise or a threat.

 

* * * *

Alex was actually kind of glad that he didn’t get to go home for another week. Then he wouldn’t have to tell Liz and Kyle that he’d gone a little off the rails. But Michael Guerin had looked at him with such familiar expectation that it had been like looking in a mirror. Alex could live with people believing he was part of an evil system, or that he was a bigot and a xenophobe. He could not live with people thinking that he was anything like his father.

Alex was off duty. He was supposed to be sleeping.

Instead, he was tossing on his thin mattress, staring up at the concrete ceiling. His Caulfield room was cramped and narrow, just big enough for the bed. They’d attached a bathroom and closet in an attempt to hide the fact, but this was obviously an old cell that they’d converted to guard housing.

He rubbed his leg where it ached and checked his phone with his other hand. After two AM.

Time to give up on sleep and do something actually useful.

Alex put on his prosthetic by feel in the darkness. He stood slowly, settling into the discomfort, letting it equalize.

If he’d been at home, he would have left the prosthetic and used the crutch. But that was a level of vulnerability he was not prepared to show in a place like this.

Outside his room, the hallways were dimly lit, everything powered down for the night shift. Alex traced the hallways slowly, making it look like nighttime wandering. In reality, he was walking the three escape routes Liz had planned. He would play back the footage tomorrow check which one had the least amount of cameras to hack.  

Eventually, his rounds took him to the cellblock. Alex hesitated, then punched in his code to open the door.

The hallway was just as dark and quiet as the rest of the prison. There was no need for him to be here, really, but he was drawn by an irresistible desire to ensure that Guerin was still breathing.

That they were _all_ still breathing, of course. Alex paused in front of Max’s door and then Isobel’s to prove that to himself.

It was just that Guerin had looked really sick earlier, and god only knew what those psychopath doctors had done to him. It was not insane to want to check up on the guy.

Max and Isobel were sleeping deeply, but when Alex looked into Guerin’s cell the man was awake.

He was sitting on his cot, back to the wall, watching.

He was clearly breathing. That was what he’d come to see, so Alex gave a little wave and turned around.

He’d made it three steps before the sound of knocking stopped him.

Guerin stood at the door, frowning at him. Alex was starting to feel guilty. The man looked exhausted, and Alex had just disturbed his sleep and probably freaked him out.

He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile and shook his head.

Guerin knocked again, looking exasperated. He spread his hands in a clear sign for _“dude, what the fuck?”_

 Well. Go big or go home.

Alex unlocked the hatch and slid it open. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Already awake.” Guerin studied Alex like he was a particularly difficult cypher.

He saw the moment Guerin chose a translation key. His posture melted, grew languid and inviting. “Lucky for you, because I’m feeling very grateful after that stunt you pulled.” He offered his arm through the hatch. “Inject me and then come on in. I’ll show you how much.”

His arm was covered in needle marks. In the dim light, the bruises looked black.

Alex spoke very softly so that he would not shout. “Please stop offering to have sex with me.”

Michael smirked. “Why? Does it make you want to say yes?”

“It makes me want to hack the personnel records of everyone who has ever worked here and shoot them between the eyes.”

Wow.

Nice move, Manes. Way to establish trust.

“Well,” Guerin said, “that’s one way to get the best parking spot.”

“It’s a nice spot.”

“I bet.” The droop of Guerin’s body turned into something exhausted rather than seductive. “So if you’re not here for a ride---”

“I’m not.”

“---then why are you here?”

Excellent question. Alex would rather not answer it, but he’d told Guerin he could ask. “I wanted to be sure you were still alive.”

Guerin’s head snapped up. “Is there a reason we wouldn’t be?”

“No! Sorry, I didn’t mean---" Alex blew out a breath. Time to go back to bed and stop making everything worse. “Whatever they injected you with looked like it hit you pretty hard. I should let you sleep.”

“Nah, I feel too crappy to sleep.” Guerin waved his hand. “Entertain me. It’s really the least you could do, considering how you just stood there and watched them poison me.”

There was real anger in his voice, but real invitation as well. Alex knew he deserved one and not the other. “Alright.”

“I’m just gonna…” Guerin sat down, more of a collapse than anything.

Looking down at him was an uncomfortable reminder of the power dynamic Alex was trying to equalize. Alex lowered himself painstakingly to the floor, propping his shoulder against the glass and keeping his prosthetic straight out in front of him. Not the most comfortable, but better than the alterative.

He hadn’t considered how close that would bring him to Guerin’s face on the other side of the door. If the glass hadn’t been separating them, they would have been able to feel each other’s breaths.

‘Too close’ was becoming a pattern with Michael Guerin.

“Tell me who it was for you,” Guerin said abruptly. “The one who taught you to get people angry.”

“Oh.” Alex didn’t talk about Jesse Manes. His unit in Iraq hadn’t known. Even Liz and Kyle didn’t know most of it. Everything he was saying was being recorded in a prison his father helped run.

He’d told Guerin to ask.

“My dad is an abusive asshole.”

“Wow, there’s a shocker.”

“Did he--Have you met him?”

Guerin curled his lip. “Oh yeah, we’ve met. He’s the one who brought us in.”

Alex hadn’t gotten that far in the file. “What happened?”

Guerin gazed at the wall in front of him. After a minute, he said, “Isobel and Max got adopted by these people, real posh, you know? Caught us out back practicing our powers and they just snapped. Your daddy showed up thirty minutes later. Busted my head so hard I saw stars for a week, snapped Max’s arm, and stuffed us in his car. Hello, Caulfield.”  

Alex was unprepared for the wave of pure rage that flooded through him. It robbed him of his words. He was so stupid to have thought Jesse Manes’ violence ended with their family. Of course it hadn’t.

God, he should have put a bullet in the man long ago. He would have, if it hadn’t been exactly the sort of move his father would have respected.

Guerin said lightly, “Hey, it was a long time ago.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know, what year is it?”

“It’s 2018,” Alex managed.

He saw the words land, a punch he hadn’t meant to throw. “Fuck,” Guerin whispered. “It’s been ten years?”

Alex raised a hand and then lowered it uselessly. He’d been in the military for ten years, and he wasn’t sure if he felt like that time had been stolen or well-spent. Either way, he hadn’t been in a cage. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. For once.” The words shook. Guerin cleared his throat and his voice steadied. “I mean, you were probably still in high school too.”

“Senior year.”

“What was your dad doing to _you_?”

The memory slapped him hard across the face. Alex was back in that toolshed smelling motor oil and Kyle Valenti’s aftershave. He could feel his father’s fingers around his throat, choking him out against the wall. He heard the sound of Kyle running away and leaving him alone, their single stolen kiss blotted out by terror.

“Manes. _Alex_.”

Alex snapped back into himself to see Guerin looking at him with something like concern. Dammit, he did not need flashbacks right now. He pressed his palms against the rough concrete and let the bite of it ground him. “I know I said I’d answer your questions, but can we---"

“Yeah, no, I get it.” Guerin shifted. “I shouldn’t have asked. Dick move.”

Alex shook his head helplessly. His father was like a new wound, no matter how much time passed.

Silence started to settle, but Alex didn’t want their conversation to end with Jesse Manes looming between them.

He said the first thing that popped into his head. “They’re making Star Wars movies again.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “The Jedi is this girl named Rey.”

He told the story, willing his voice to lead him and Michael out the dark place they’d stumbled into.

_Guerin_. Dammit, he didn’t want Alex using his first name.

By the time Kylo Ren had stabbed Han Solo, the mood was lighter and Alex felt settled in his skin again. Guerin whistled. “That’s messed up.”

“Just wait until we get to _The Last Jedi_.”

Alex then realized there were a lot of assumptions in that sentence. Guerin heard them too. Their eyes met for a second before Guerin looked away. “I still don’t trust you.”

“I know.”

“Finish the story, Manes.”

“Okay.”

 

* * * *

 

Isobel was glaring at him. Michael could feel it, even with his back to the door.

Alex had stayed until the black sky had lightened to grey and Michael was so tired he felt like he was floating outside his body. Alex had suggested wrapping up a few times, but Michael had overruled him. He hadn’t realized how starved he was for the rhythm of a conversation, the ebb and flow of two voices.

Isobel had woken right when Alex dragged himself off the ground to leave. It had taken the man a long time to stand up and Michael could tell it hurt him. Alex hadn’t complained--just told him to try to sleep and walked away, favoring his right leg.

Michael couldn’t sleep with Isobel’s laser eyes pointed at him, so he turned around to face the music.

Sure enough, she was standing at her cell door, arms crossed. Her posture was angry, but her eyes were worried.

Michael spread his hands: _Calm down, everything’s fine._

Isobel jabbed her finger furiously in the direction Alex had left.

Michael tapped his hand over his heart: _I’m okay._

Isobel shook her head. He and Isobel could see into each other’s cells. She knew what Wyatt Long did to him and he knew what Flint Manes did to her. Isobel was afraid for him, mentally adding Alex Manes to the list of guards who’d picked a favorite alien to fuck with. Or sometimes just to fuck.

Alex had said he wasn’t going to do stuff like that.

Michael did not trust Alex Manes.

But it wasn’t _trust_ to say that Alex hadn’t hurt him yet and was probably unlikely to do so. That was using empirical evidence to create a hypothesis. That was _science_.

Isobel put her palm against the glass and Michael mirrored her. It was a gesture that meant _stay safe, I love you, I’m here._

Then she pointed to his cot, and honestly nothing had ever seemed like a better idea.

He curled his aching body into the two pillows Alex had brought. They smelled like nothing else in Caulfield, something clean and homey and comforting. Michael closed his eyes and fell asleep wrapped in that scent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, I figured Kyle did a little experimenting with Alex in high school, which ended when Jesse caught them. No hands were smashed, but Alex and Kyle stopped being friends for years, similar to the show. 
> 
> (I'm trying to update every few days...never posted a WIP before, so it's an adventure for us all.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments!! Your COMMENTS! They are the shiny alien handprint on my heart. 
> 
> Astute readers will note that I've upped the amount of chapters. This is because I, like Alex Manes, am a gay disaster who has lost all perspective when it comes to Michael Guerin.

 

Michael dreamed of fire. He was burning in Alex’s arms, but he didn’t want to leave. He wanted Alex to hold him until he turned to ash.

The banging on his door jolted him out of the dream, but the burning didn’t stop. He groaned. It was worse now than it had been.

The door of his cell opened, but it was the wrong Manes who walked in. “Get up, B-3.”

Michael knew that he absolutely couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to. He buried his face in Alex’s pillows and waited for the pain.

It wasn’t long in coming. Flint wrenched him up by his wrists and flung him against the wall. Michael tried to catch himself, but his limbs refused to hold him. They buckled and he slid to the floor.

“Stand up and walk,” Flint said impassively. “You won’t like the alternative.”

“I can’t, asshole. Something’s wrong.”

Flint considered that, drew back his foot, and delivered a vicious kick.

Fuck, that hurt. Michael curled his arms around his chest. Unasked for and unwanted, a tiny voice in his head wished Alex would come. Traitor brain.

“Get up,” Flint said.

Michael fought for breath. “I. Can’t.”

Another kick, right in the face. Michael’s head snapped back and blackness fuzzed the edges of his vision. Yes, he’d take unconsciousness for two-hundred, please.

Alas, he was still mostly coherent when Flint grabbed him under the arms and dragged him out of his cell. He tried to get his legs under him, but they simply wouldn’t bear his weight. Somehow Flint’s hands managed to bruise as much as his boots had.

Michael faded in and out. He was in the labs, the doctors buzzing anxiously around him. He was in Alex’s bed and Alex was slicing his fingers off with a scalpel.

“The serum was too effective,” Dr. Bates said. She was dictating into her phone. “It started off suppressing all known markers of alien DNA, but now it is attacking the subject’s own cells. At the current rate of degeneration the subject will be dead in under eight hours.”

Michael dragged himself out of half-dreams to focus on what she was saying. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t leave his siblings alone in this place.

Isobel. Max.

“We have administered the antidote and continue to observe its effects. Beta test one complete.” Dr. Bates pressed some buttons on her phone and then looked around at her team. “Nice work, everyone. Get the subject stable and we can crunch the data.”

So dying wasn’t on the agenda today. Good to know.

It was concerning that the doctors were working on a super version of their alien-suppressant serum, but Michael was in too much pain to think more about it.

He was in the lab for a long time. Long enough for the doctors to have a shift change and for Flint Manes to leave and be replaced by Wyatt Long.

Wrong guard again and damn him for even having that thought, fuck.

When Wyatt told him to stand up, Michael found he could actually do it. He felt weak but not like he was burning from the inside.

Wyatt cuffed him and rested a hand on his back to guide him out of the labs. Michael’s skin crawled. They had turned left outside the lab instead of right. This was the way to the guard’s quarters, and only one thing happened to him there.

He couldn’t help it---he balked. Wyatt pressed closer against his back and said, “Don’t make a fuss, now.”

Michael had made a fuss the first time and he could still hear Max’s screams because of it. He forced himself to start walking.

So, yeah, between the almost-dying and the impending rape this was turning into a pretty crappy day. Good times.

Wyatt knocked on a door that wasn’t their usual and it slid open.

Alex Manes was in the doorway.

Michael’s first, instinctive reaction was relief.

Alex ignored him completely in favor of giving Wyatt an impressed look. “What do you know, you actually deliver on your big-man talk.”

Wyatt scoffed. “Told you, didn’t I? I’m the only one on duty tonight and I don’t care.”

“How long do I have?”

“I dunno Manes, I guess that’s between you and your dick.”

Oh, Michael was stupid.  

Wyatt pulled out a syringe and jammed it into Michael’s arm. “Docs said they gave him an antidote to their special serum. Can’t be too careful.”

“Sure,” Alex agreed.

Wyatt gave him a push into Alex’s chest. “Have fun,” he said cheerily, and closed the door behind him.

Alex’s hands were just as gentle as always when he unlocked the handcuffs. Michael hated him for it. “I’m sorry about him.”

“Save it.” Michael didn’t care if his tone was going to earn him more pain. Betrayal churned in his stomach. When had he counted on Alex enough to feel betrayed by him? “You almost had me going there with that whole self-righteousness shtick. Man, that was way more work than you needed to get your dick wet.”

Alex had lost all his casualness. He held up his hands, like he wanted to block Michael’s words. “Hang on, no.”

“Oh, I get it, you want to play make-believe. Fine, but it costs extra if I pretend to want it.”

“Stop!”

It was the first time Alex had raised his voice. Michael felt nauseous and smug at the same time.

“Mich--- _Guerin_ , please stop.” Alex backed away, stumbling on his bad leg until he was against the opposite wall. His hands were still up, like he was surrendering. “I said I wasn’t going to hurt you, remember?”

“You say a lot of things.”

“I’m here to break you out!”

Michael felt like he was falling. He was being whipped back and forth so quickly he couldn’t find his balance. “ _What_?”

Alex searched for his eyes and Michael let him find them. Because Michael was stupid and his brain was a traitor that kept wanting to give this man a chance.

“I brought you here because there are no cameras in these rooms.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Michael choked out.

“I would never touch you without your permission.” Alex wasn’t looking away. From the minute they’d met, Alex had never looked away from him. “I’m going to stand right here unless you tell me I can move.”

It was the perfect thing to say. Michael was rapidly losing the ability to think beyond how this man was making him feel. He needed to be able to think. “Talk. What the hell do you mean you’re here to get me out?”

“Max and Isobel too. There’s a group of us working on it. I was the one with the family connection, so I came in undercover.”

“That’s insane,” Michael said harshly. “You know there’s no way I can believe you, right?”

“I know.” Alex looked like he really did. “I wanted to take this slower, but our timeline got pushed up.”

Michael’s brain decided to be useful for a change. “The new serum.”

Alex nodded. “I’ve been talking with Dr. Bates. They’re trying to create something that would permanently take away alien abilities. We need to get you all out of here before they do.”

“Wouldn’t the world be a safer place without superpowered aliens?”

“Maybe,” Alex said simply. “But I have a very firm stance on conversion therapy. You don’t take the Force from a Jedi.”

“That’s not what your father thinks.”

“My father is a bigot. And I don’t think he’s ever actually seen Star Wars.”

Michael couldn’t match Alex’s attempts to lighten the mood. He had about two minutes left in his legs and the only place in this room to sit was Alex’s bed, and he was actually okay with that, which was more terrifying than if he hadn’t been, and--

“Hey,” Alex said. “Breathe.”

Michael did. Apparently listening to Alex Manes was something he did now.

“I’d like to make a phone call,” Alex said. “To one of my friends who’s working with me. I know it doesn’t prove anything, but I thought it might help convince you that I’m not totally full of shit.”

“First I need to sit down before I fall down.”

Alex motioned to the bed. “Yeah, of course.”

The bed sure did look like Wyatt’s bed. Michael eyed it.

Alex noticed. He said, very seriously, “Remember, I’m not moving unless you say.”

“That’s a lot of power you’re giving me, Manes.” Michael eased himself gingerly onto the bed. “I’m the vindictive type.”

“I’ve met worse.”

“Right. Jesse Manes, abusive asshole.”

And, fuck. Of _course_ Alex would know the perfect things to say in a situation like this. They spoke the same language, taught to them by similar teachers. Michael shook his head and laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“I think you and I are both a little fucked up.”

Alex smiled, something small and real. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

“Don’t harass me. Make your phone call.”

Which is how Michael ended up meeting Liz Ortecho via speakerphone. She was smart and kind and exactly the sort of person who would be friends with Alex.

“I’m sorry about what’s happening to you,” she said, formal and a bit awkward.

No one had said that to him yet. Michael had to blink sudden water out of his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Alex and Kyle didn’t think you’d believe him if he told you today, but I told them not to be stupid. I mean, you’ve met Alex.”

Michael glanced at the other man. “Yeah, I’ve met him.”

“Then you know the sort of person he is.”

“Liz,” Alex said quietly.

“ _Alex_ ,” Liz retorted, “don’t tell me you’re doing the thing where you turn into a goody-two-shoes and remove all your personality.”

Michael snorted.

“I have personality,” Alex said, sounding a little persecuted.

“He told me the plot of the new Star Wars,” Michael offered.

“Oh my god _._ Well Michael, I promise you that even if he’s a big nerd, he’s got your back. We all do.”

“I walked your routes last night,” Alex said, quick to change the subject. “Checked the footage today.”

“How did they look?”

“I’ll compose odes to your greatness later. I think we should go with number two.”

“Done.” Liz’s voice was brisk now. “Kyle’s almost done getting the fake IDs. Who knew a doctor had such shady connections?”

Michael just sat and listened, feeling hope grow without his permission. This was an insane amount of detail to make up for a trick.

“I’ll be on night rotation in three days. That’s when we need to make our move. What do you think, Guerin?”

“That should be okay. The doctors usually take three or four days between trials.”

“If something goes south, there’s always plan B,” Liz said.

“Which is?”

“Guns,” Alex said. “Lots of guns.”

“Nerd,” Michael said.

“Please get this guy out of prison soon. I need someone help me torment you,” Liz said.

“You already have Valenti!”

“What’s that? Can’t hear you.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Bye, Liz.”

“Bye, Alex. Michael, stay safe.”

Alex ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. “So?”

“So, Liz is cool, I guess.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t know, Alex, give me a minute!”

“You’re right,” he said immediately. “I’m sorry.”

Michael let out a breath. “God, Liz was right, you are a goody-two-shoes. You’re not going to break me by disagreeing.”

“I’m just giving you a minute.”

Alex’s kindness was bland and impassive. Michael wanted to crack that layer and dig his hands into whatever mess lay beneath. Last night, he’d gotten a glimpse of it. He wanted more.

“Look. If you’re lying, it’s the most convoluted and pointless lie I’ve ever heard. If you’re telling the truth, you all have hero complexes and should get therapy.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Let’s say I buy what you’re selling. What do you need from me?”

Michael watched Alex swallow his first response and instead settle on, “Nothing. Just follow me out the door when the time comes.”

“See, it’s kind of hard to trust you when you do that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Uh huh.” Michael enjoyed the pinch of frustration growing between Alex’s eyebrows. “Get rid of those kid gloves and say what you want to say.”

Alex set his jaw stubbornly. “It’s not about the escape. I just need---I can’t---” He closed his eyes for a second and started again. “Your face is a domestic violence PSA and it’s triggering as fuck. I need to do something about it or stop looking at you.”

Michael had forgotten about Flint’s boot in his face. He reached up and felt crusted blood under his nose. “Oh. Okay.”

“You haven’t said I can move.”

The intensity in Alex’s voice shivered through him, a sear of heat. 

“You can move.”

Alex walked into his tiny bathroom and wet a washcloth in the sink before coming around to his side of the bed. He offered it to Michael. “Clean yourself up, Guerin.”

“You can call me Michael. Pretty sure we’ve reached that point.”

“I thought you didn’t trust me.”

“I don’t.” Michael dabbed at his sore face. “I’m humoring your delusions.”

Alex smiled that wry smile of his. “That’s nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy.”

“Would you be okay if we met here tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“Really? Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Alex was back to being cautious and it pissed him off. “I’m plenty comfortable.”

“You expected me to rape you, Michael.”

Michael responded to the pain in his voice before stopping to think if it was wise. “I really didn’t.”

It was the right thing to say. That rawness was back in Alex’s voice when he said, “I’m glad to hear it.”

 

* * * *

 

Alex was optimistic when he walked Michael back to his cell. That had gone well, maybe? God, he wasn’t sure. Michael had seemed to believe him, but then Alex had acted like a crazy person by throwing a washcloth at him. He just couldn’t stand seeing Michael’s battered face, like looking in a mirror from his childhood. Maybe Michael hadn’t minded? He seemed almost comfortable now, walking closely beside him down the hallway.

Like he’d read Alex’s mind, Michael glanced at him and offered a smile. Alex wondered if he knew how hopeful that smile was.

Alex physically couldn’t stop himself from smiling back.

They walked back together until the entered the cell block. Isobel’s cell was empty. Michael stopped dead in front of Max, and Alex hurried to pretend to check the handcuffs.

He knew Michael was having some mysterious communication with his brother. He also knew, from glancing out of the corner of his eye, that Max wanted to skin Alex alive. He couldn’t blame the guy.

Michael was agitated. He tugged his hands out of Alex’s grip. “Flint’s off duty tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Michael made a pained noise. Alex moved closer, instinctively. “What is it?”

Telling someone what was wrong meant they knew right where to hit you. So Alex was a little surprised when Michael didn’t hesitate. “He just left with Isobel.”

Alex saw the confirmation of all his questions in the bleakness of Michael’s eyes. “I’ll find her,” he said tightly. He punched in the code for Michael’s cell door.

“Tha--”

“Do _not_ thank me.”

“When you find her, tell her she wore orange to prom.”

Alex unlocked Michael’s handcuffs and brushed his fingers against the other man’s palm, a promise.

Then he locked the cell and ran.

Flint’s room was in a different hallway, and that was where he headed. He saw them up ahead, Isobel with her hands cuffed behind her back, posture straight and unafraid. Flint walking behind her, too close.

“Flint!”

His prosthetic complained when he hurried down the hallway, but Alex ignored it.

Flint turned around, glaring. “Can I help you with something?”

Alex jerked his chin towards Isobel. “Dr. Bates wants B-1 in the lab.”

Flint frowned. “She’s crunching data in her office.”

If he was hoping to get Alex rattled, he was severely underestimating his little brother’s ability to lie under pressure.

“Let’s call her up, then.” Alex clicked on his radio. “Hey, Dr. B, are you there?”

“Hey there, Alex!”

Flint also underestimated Alex’s ability to charm young, friendly doctors. To be fair, Alex had spent most of the afternoon being as charming as possible around Dr. Bates. No easy task when Michael had been in the other room mostly unconscious.

“Settle something between my brother and me? There’s a case of beer in it for you.”

“Ooh, I love bets.”

“Didn’t you ask me to bring B-1 down to the labs just now?”

A short pause, during which Alex prayed that he had read Dr. Bates’ dislike of Flint correctly. Then, her voice through the radio: “I sure did. Sorry, Flint.”

Flint relinquished his hold on Isobel with bad grace. Without a word, he stalked off to his quarters.

Isobel gave Alex a bitter, sarcastic smile. “Ooh, my hero.”

Without thinking, Alex said, “Oh, so you’re where Michael gets it.”

Isobel’s smile flipped to a snarl with terrifying speed. “Leave my brother out of this!”

Alex had just spent an hour with Michael second-guessing every word and gesture, all while standing up. He was getting tired and making stupid mistakes. Wearily, he held up his hands in his go-to offer of peace. “He said to tell you that you wore orange to prom.”

Isobel jerked back in surprise. It clearly meant something to her.

“Sorry, I’ve got to…” Alex motioned to his radio before pressing the call button. “Thanks for the assist, Dr. B. Your beer is on its way.”

Her laugh through the speaker made Isobel flinch. “I have brothers too, I get it. Do whatever you want with B-1, I’m elbows-deep in paperwork down here.”

“Copy that,” Alex said. “Asshole,” he added, off mic. He motioned for Isobel to follow him. “We should get you back before Wyatt starts to ask questions.”

“What are you doing to Michael?”

Isobel was swaying slightly with the effects of the serum, but she still had authority in her voice. The woman had _presence_.

Alex was hyper aware of the cameras silently recording for Flint to check later. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” She took a step towards him and Alex fought the urge to step back. “All this special treatment? I know a guilty conscience when I see one, Manes. We will kill you for it. Know that. Every time you hurt him, your death gets a little slower.”

None of Alex’s brothers had ever protected him. When his father had choked him until he’d passed out, they hadn’t said a word. Trauma had clearly forged Michael and his siblings into something unbreakable where the Manes brothers had shattered under the pressure. He couldn’t imagine having a sibling like Isobel. He was glad Michael did.

“I believe you,” Alex said. “But I’m not hurting him.”

Isobel scoffed. “Can we just go?”

When they made it back to the cellblock, Max and Michael were both pacing frantic circles in their cells. Max’s eyes were red. Alex’s stomach twisted---the guy had seen his two siblings marched off and hadn’t been able to do anything. That was a form of torture all of its own.

Surely it couldn’t hurt to let Isobel talk to her brother. Alex paused at Max’s cell to open the hatch, but a knock from Michael’s cell stopped him. Michael could probably just barely see them, but somehow he’d guessed what Alex was going to do. Michael shook his head, inclining his head towards one of the cameras.

Alex made a face, but Michael was right. Too dangerous.

Isobel was right too---guilty conscience indeed.

She was watching this exchange with raised eyebrows. Alex didn’t know how to explain, so he didn’t.

She pointed to Michael and spoke, even though she knew he couldn’t hear. “Jerk. That dress was peach. _Peach_.”

Michael shrugged expressively. This was obviously an old argument.

Alex opened her cell and she walked in without a fuss. Before he closed the door, she turned to him and said, “I’m not going to thank you.”

“Good. You shouldn’t have to.”

When he locked her in, it was impossible to stop himself from turning to look at Michael. Whenever he was in the same room as Michael Guerin, he never looked away.

Michael’s eyes were full of something as he looked from his sister to Alex. He pressed a palm flat against the glass. Alex wanted to reach back, to line up his hand and see how perfectly it fit.

Wow. Okay, Manes, keep it together.

He was running on three hours of sleep and his leg was now a steady throb. But he was afraid to leave. If he left, Flint could come back.

Technically, Alex wasn’t on duty until 0700 tomorrow morning. It was evening now, and Flint would relieve Wyatt in an hour or so. Flint wouldn’t screw around while on duty. His brother was a morally bankrupt bastard, but he was obsessed with following rules.

Alex limped to the entrance of the cellblock and stationed himself there until the shift change. When he was certain that Flint was up in the control room, he forced his leg to carry him back to his room.

He collapsed into his bed at last, easing the prosthetic off with a groan. He bent down and reached awkwardly for his duffel bag and the bottle of muscle relaxers. If he took them now, he might not be totally useless tomorrow morning.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Michael’s hopeful smile.

He grabbed his phone and texted the group chat.

 

 

 

> Me: _I’m a disaster._
> 
> Kyle Valenti: _No! No way._
> 
> Liz Ortecho: _what kinda disaster?_
> 
> Me: _The morally bankrupt kind._
> 
> Liz Ortecho: _nope try again._
> 
> Me: _The gay kind?_
> 
> Liz Ortecho: _haha_ _ye._
> 
> Kyle Valenti: _Um so you know I support you, but it’s going be a hard no from me on trash-talking yourself._
> 
> Me: _Thanks VALENTI._
> 
> Kyle Valenti: _What happened man?_

Alex didn’t know how to answer that question. He typed, _Michael Guerin happened and he keeps on happening and I’m freaking out._

He deleted that and sent instead, _Rough day._

 

 

 

> Liz Ortecho: _i know. for what it’s worth M seemed to trust you. why would he do that if ur morally bankrupt?_
> 
> Me: _Years of physical and emotional abuse that have conditioned him to view basic human decency as something special._
> 
> Liz Ortecho: _Alex. Are you taking advantage of that?_
> 
> Me: _No!_
> 
> Liz Ortecho: _And are you being as careful with him as you can while respecting his ability to make choices?_
> 
> Me: _Probably?_
> 
> Me: _I’m really trying._
> 
> Liz Ortecho: _then i think ur morality is ok._
> 
> Kyle Valenti: _Have you been sleeping?_
> 
> Me: _Yes doctor._
> 
> Kyle Valenti: _Sleeping enough?_
> 
> Me: _Yes_.
> 
> Liz Ortecho: _dont lie to kyle he’s a doctor._
> 
> Kyle Valenti: _That’s a federal crime you know._
> 
> Me: _You are very wrong._
> 
> Kyle Valenti: _Nah_.
> 
> Liz Ortecho: _coming to arrest you now._

Alex let the phone’s warm screen rest on his forehead and pretended it was one of their hands. He might not have siblings he could trust, but he had these two.

> Me: _No arrests needed, I’m going to sleep._
> 
> Kyle Valenti: _Night dude._
> 
> Liz Ortecho: _love u._
> 
> Me: _Good night._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I explain why I headcanon Liz's texting style to be an unholy mix of millennial and gen-z? No I cannot.
> 
> Shoutout to CarlaDuquette who asked for more siblings! Hope you like it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those asking for some nice touching...I got you, fam.

 

 

It turned out that Kyle had actually learned a thing or two with his medical degree, because when Alex woke up after six whole hours of sleep, his mind was clearer. His leg was furiously complaining about his activities for the past two days, but since when did it do anything else? Alex popped another muscle relaxer, did his stretches, and sucked it up.

He stuffed a granola bar in his pocket and brought Michael, Isobel, and Max their morning meal.

Michael looked better than yesterday---more color in his face and his smile coming easier. Isobel ignored him and Max still looked murderous. Alex was relying on Michael to get his siblings to follow him out of Caulfield in two days without snapping his neck.

He left their hatches open as long as he dared, pretending not to hear their conversation. It was the same as before, the tug on his heart at the sound of their tenderness with each other. Family.

When Michael tried to hand his MRE packet back through the hatch, Alex didn’t take it. “This is still mostly full.”

“I really wasn’t feeling lukewarm beef stew for breakfast.” Michael said it with tentative humor, like he wasn’t absolutely sure if pushing backs against Alex was okay.

Alex remembered before, how Isobel and Max made it a point not to eat without Michael. He dug around in his pocket and offered the granola bar. “Trade you.”

Michael didn’t take it. “Then what will you eat?”

“I can get another one. C’mon, Michael.”

Michael unwrapped it grudgingly. “As long as you have more.”

“Two whole boxes.”

Michael took a bite and made a sound that immediately imbedded itself in Alex’s memory. “Fuuuck, were these always this good?”

 “Welcome to the future,” Alex said weakly. “See you this afternoon?”

Michael was totally distracted by the food. He waved his hand absently and gave the granola bar an enthusiastic lick.

Alex called a tactical retreat.

He spent the rest of his shift in the control room testing the security feeds and keeping an eye on Isobel. The encryption was actually pretty solid. The military had clearly put their top coders on it. Well, fortunately, Alex had also been one of their top coders. He didn’t launch a full-on assault of the system yet---he poked around, getting familiar and finding the traps. By the end of his shift, he had made good progress.

On one of the monitors, he saw Flint heading to the entrance. He toggled the views and watched him get into one of the jeeps and drive off. Huh.

When Wyatt came to relieve him, he asked. “Where’s Flint off to?”

Wyatt shrugged. “Brass sent him off on some kind of errand. Dammed if I know what or where. Said he’d be back tomorrow.”

That was some good news, at least.

All the hours of sitting still had made his leg even stiffer, and he bit his lip when he stood. “Thanks, man. I’m off.”

“That’s right, go get off.” Wyatt gave him a leer when he walked out, and Alex made himself wink back.

When they busted out of here, he almost hoped Wyatt tried to stop him.

 

 

“Right on time,” Michael said, sticking his arm through the hatch. “You military guys.”

Alex had studied the camera angles on this cell so that he could position his body to block most of his actions. He pulled out the empty syringe he’d used on Michael yesterday and offered it for his inspection. “We’re a timely bunch.”

Michael’s eyes widened as he saw it. “Um. Are you sure you know how to use that thing?”

Alex wasn’t going to inject air into Michael’s veins, for heaven’s sake. “Trust me.”

“Nope,” Michael said and offered the crook of his elbow.

Alex slid the needle in, waited, and then slid it out. He put the handcuffs loosely around his wrists. “Okay, let’s go.”

Michael’s eyes were still huge with disbelief when they walked down the hall. “You’re crazy,” he said, hushed. “I get it now. You’re like actually, certifiably, insane.”

For the first time since they’d met, Alex wasn’t focusing completely on Michael. He was trying to keep his leg moving. The pain of it was making him sweat. Dammit, why now?

They made it to Alex’s wing of the prison before he inevitably lost the fight and his leg buckled under him.

He hit the ground hard, agony rippling out from the leg socket and through his entire body.

“Alex!” Michael dropped down beside him.

Alex set his teeth together to stop a scream of pain and frustration. This was humiliating. And it hurt, dammit. He struggled to get his good leg underneath him.

“Hey, woah, take it easy.” Michael got his bound hands under Alex’s arm and helped lever him up. It was easier than it should have been, like something was giving them a boost.

Michael practically dragged him over to his door, Alex leaning most of his weight on him. Alex punched in the code, locked the door behind them, and then let Michael ease him down onto the bed.

He put his hands over his face. Deep breaths, Manes. Eventually, the roar of pain ebbed to a manageable level. The embarrassment? That was sticking around.

Alex firmed up his expression and dropped his hands. Michael was hovering awkwardly, so close that he was almost brushing against Alex’s shoulder.

“Oh, shit. Your cuffs.” Alex pulled out his key with shaking fingers.

“It can wait,” Michael said, more gently than Alex had ever heard. Great. Pity. His absolute favorite.

“I thought you said no kid gloves,” Alex snapped. “Give me your hands.”

Michael shoved his hands into Alex’s face. “Fine. Then the truth is, Manes, you look like crap. I’m not even sure you can turn a key right now.”

Alex unlocked the cuffs and they fell to the floor. “Shows what you know.”

“Don’t look smug, you don’t deserve to look smug.” Michael settled himself cross-legged on the floor. “Does that happen a lot?”

Alex ignored the heat in his cheeks. “The prosthetic’s still pretty new for me, so only when I keep it on too long.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Then don’t do that.”

“I’m not using a crutch where my brother can see me.” Alex could not soften his tone and the words came out harsh.

“Yeah, that dick would probably kick it out from under you.”

The ridiculous image punctured a hole in Alex’s anger. “God. He would, wouldn’t he?”

“Well, I won’t. You should take it off.” He added, belatedly, “I mean, if you want.”

Alex wanted it off, there was no question. The edges of the leg were rubbing welts into his skin through the protective sock.

He had never taken his leg off around someone who wasn’t his physical therapist or his doctor. The sight could be unsettling, he knew that. And his residual limb was a mess of surgical scars. The thought of someone else seeing that was a level of vulnerability that made his stomach clench.

Then he looked at Michael, who he’d handcuffed, who was at his mercy in every way that actually mattered, and shame swirled through him. Who the hell was he to whine about vulnerability?

Alex cleared his throat. “Okay. You don’t have to watch if you’d rather not.”

“I like mechanical things,” Michael said. He watched closely when Alex rolled up his pant leg, pressed the pin at the ankle, and eased off the prosthetic. He didn’t even look away when Alex peeled off the liner and the sock underneath that, exposing his skin.

It looked red and irritated. Alex rubbed it.

“Do you have medicine for that or something?” Michael asked. His words were clipped.

“There’s some cream in my bag.”

Without asking, Michael reached behind him and rooted around in Alex’s duffle for the pot of ointment Kyle had given him. Michael unscrewed the cap and the cool smell of eucalyptus and mint filled the room.

“Thanks,” Alex said, reaching for it.

Michael clutched it in one hand. “I can do it.”

Alex flinched back like Michael had actually put a hand on him. His nerves, already stretched thin from stress and pain, shrieked.

“Or not,” Michael said hastily. “Fuck. I’m out of practice with the whole asking permission thing.”

Alex wrapped his arms around himself protectively. He felt small. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t know, it seemed like it might be something nice to do?”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Considering me and my family are the reason you’re pushing yourself so hard, I’d say I do.”

“ _My_ family put you here!”

“But _you_ didn’t.” The words were full of certainty that was lighting Michael up from the inside. “And you don’t deserve to be in pain because of it.”

Guilt again. Alex shook his head.

“C’mon, Manes. Usually when someone’s hurting, I can do jack shit. Let me help for once.”

Alex wanted that, even if he knew he didn’t deserve it. He was selfish enough to take it. “Okay,” he said unsteadily.

Michael scooted closer to Alex. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll be real gentle since it’s our first time.”

“You’re not funny, Guerin.”

“Excuse you, I’m hilarious.”

The coolness of the cream felt wonderful on Alex’s abused skin. And Michael’s fingers felt…

They felt good.

They were warm and strong, first smoothing the cream over Alex’s leg, then pressing in firmly to massage the muscles.

“That feel okay?” Michael murmured. His head was bent over his work. Alex looked down at his curls and tried to breathe.

“Yeah,” he said. He sucked in a long breath when Michael’s thumbs found a particularly sensitive spot.

Michael drew back to check his expression. “Yeah?”

Alex nodded. He didn’t trust his voice anymore.

Michael gave him a small grin and went back to it.

It was stupid, what his fingers were doing to Alex’s insides. He felt like he was unraveling. Not even because Michael was a beautiful man---there wasn’t anything sexual about this. It was just that Alex couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him with so much kindness, without malice or even expectation.

Alex swallowed, throat thick.

When Michael eventually eased up, the pain was only a distant hum. Alex breathed out. He rested one hand on Michael’s shoulder.

Michael looked up at him, a truly lovely sight.

“Thank you,” Alex said. He didn’t even try to hide the depth of it.

“Can’t have you falling over when you’re planning a rescue, can we?” Michael joked, but his eyes were serious.

“No, I guess we can’t.”

 

 

* * * *

 

For the first time in years Michel could feel his powers trickling back and he was pretty sure it was making him a little crazy. He felt invincible, strong enough to do anything he wanted.

He’d wanted to get his hands on Alex Manes, so he had.

Alex had let him, even though he’d known that Michael could snap his leg with a thought.

He _had_ known that, hadn’t he?

Alex certainly didn’t look like he did. He looked flushed and a little overwhelmed, but in a nice way that Michael had forgotten people could look. He’d been so soft under Michael’s hands.

If anything would get Alex to stop looking at him like that, a reminder of his alien-ness would.

Michael came out of the bathroom after washing his hands and leaned in the doorway. “So, no serum, huh?”

Alex was fussing with his pant leg, not paying a lot of attention. “It makes you sick. I figured we could get away with skipping it.”

“You know what that stuff does?”

He had Alex’s attention now. “Sure.”

“Want to see something cool?”

“…sure.”

Michael held out his hand and concentrated. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t exercised in years. Difficult, but possible.

A granola bar flew out of Alex’s bag and into Michael’s hand.

Delight flashed across Alex’s face in pure, uncomplicated wonder. There was not one ounce of fear in his eyes or one second of hesitation when he said, “Please tell me you can fly.”

And that was that.

Alex was probably eventually going to betray him or hurt him or break him, but what-the-fuck-ever. Michael would deal with that when it happened. For now, he wanted to enjoy this good thing while he had it.

“No flying,” Michael said. His heart thundered.

“So lame.”

“Hey!” Michael focused on Alex’s discarded sock. He floated it up and smacked it in Alex’s face.

Alex batted it away, laughing incredulously. “I cannot _believe_ \---” His expression changed. “Guerin. Michael, are you okay?”

“What? Why?”

“Your nose is bleeding. Like, a lot.”

Michael swiped under his nose and sure enough, his fingers came away wet. “Oh, gross. Guess it really has been a long time. Where’s that washcloth from yesterday?” He snagged it from the sink and tried to wipe the blood away.

“You’re just smearing it around,” Alex said, sounding torn between distress and amusement. Right, he didn’t like to see Michael’s face bloody. “Come over here.”

Michael did, walking right up into his space and waiting there. Alex had that look from yesterday, the one where he wanted something he would never ask for.

Heat simmered under Michael’s skin, fueled by that had already passed between them and the decision he had just made. “Use your words.”

“Do you want to sit?”

Michael sat on the bed, so close that his arm brushed up against Alex’s.

And the man was still fucking hesitating.

“Kid gloves,” Michael growled.

Alex’s eyes flashed, and oh yeah, the guy had steel underneath all that softness. “Let me clean you up.”

“Why?” Michael challenged, because he knew and he wanted Alex to say it.

Alex didn’t disappoint. “Because I want to touch you. And I think you want that too.”

“I’ve already touched you today.”

“Then I guess I owe you one.”

Michael hid his nerves behind a smirk. “I guess you do.”

Alex took his chin between two cool fingers and tilted it up. It was the gentlest touch Michael could remember in years. Alex was close and he smelled like his pillows. The space between them was calm and safe. Michael hadn’t expected that, but that was Alex for you. Always unexpected.

Alex cleaned the blood off his face with an exquisite kind of tenderness. His thumb brushed a soothing rhythm against Michael’s cheek. He was pretty sure Alex wasn’t aware he was doing it.

Michael had always liked being touched. He used to find excuses to burrow under Max’s arm or curl into Isobel’s shoulder. Alex’s fingers resurrected that part of himself with very minute that passed.

Who, he wondered, touched Alex like this? From the way he’d reacted to Michael’s hands before, probably no one.

He could see it so clearly: Alex alone in this miserable cell of a room, Alex shrugging off the hands of his friends, Alex who had to be goaded into saying what he wanted.

Michael reached out and slid a hand into Alex’s short hair.

Alex let out a breath like he’d been punched. Yeah, Michael had called it right.

“Easy,” he soothed. He combed his fingers through the soft strands.

Alex swayed closer to him. His hands had dropped into his lap like Michael had cut all his strings.

Oh, Michael liked that.

“This isn’t…” Alex gathered his thoughts, tried again. “This is about you, not me.”

“Why can’t it be both?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” There was only a little mockery in the words.

Alex huffed out a laugh that turned into a breathy shiver when Michael gave his hair a light tug. Pretense abandoned, Alex reached out and cupped Michael’s face in those cool, strong hands.

Michael pulled him forward, hungry for closeness. Alex pressed his forehead against his and they breathed together. Michael let his eyes slip shut and basked in the feeling of someone this close without pain.

With a sigh, Alex moved to pull back.

Michael tightened his grip in his hair. “No, wait.”

“Michael,” Alex warned, “you don’t trust me.”

“So what?” Michael drew Alex back where he wanted him. “Someone in this place is going to destroy me. It might as well be you.”

Alex’s pupils were blown. He pressed his cheek to Michael’s briefly before pulling away in earnest. Michael had to let him go or risk hurting him.

“I’m not going to destroy you. I’m going to rescue you.” Alex’s smile was crooked and sad. “Then, if you still want to, we can pick this up after that.”

Michael felt like he’d been pulled out of a freefall: part frustrated adrenaline, part relief. “Cockblocking bastard.”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

He was ridiculous. Michael liked it so much.

Still, Michael was a bit of a bastard himself. He reached out and brushed Alex’s lips with his thumb. “You sure?”

Alex groaned. “Guerin, _dammit._ Yes! Yes, I’m sure.”

Michael sat back, pleased. “Just checking.”

“You’re terrible.”

“You know it.”

Alex had bright spots of color on his cheeks. He looked beautiful.

From his belt, a radio sounded: “Can someone bring us B-3?”

Just like that, the moment shattered. Michael felt himself shattering with it. Usually the doctors took longer to go over their data. He’d thought he had more time.

“They haven’t perfected the serum,” Alex said. “I checked the notes this morning.”

Michael nodded.

“This will be another trial.”

It was going to be just as painful as the last time, then. Michael’s bones ached at the thought.

Alex was waiting with his hand poised on the radio. Michael knew he wouldn’t do anything unless Michael gave him permission.

“Tell them we’re coming,” he said roughly.

Alex pressed the call button. “That’s a copy.”

Wyatt’s voice chimed in. “I’ve got it, Manes. I’m on duty after all.”

Michael shook his head vehemently.

“Take a load off. After all, I owe you two now.” Alex gave Michael an apologetic wince.

“You sure do. Alright, twist my arm.”

Alex dropped the radio and hurried back into his prosthetic. Michael grabbed his leg where it lay on the floor and handed it to him.

Alex was a pro at this. He was ready to go in three minutes. He probably didn’t need Michael’s hand up, but he took it anyway.

While he was putting on the handcuffs, Michael asked him, “Will you stay in there with me?”

“If that’s what you want,” Alex said steadily.

“It always hurts,” Michael admitted. “And so far you’re, like, the opposite of that.”

Alex gripped his hands fiercely. “I’ll be there. You know I don’t move until you say so.”

Michael clung to Alex’s hands the whole time down the hallway. Stoicism was for people who still had dignity to lose. When the lab loomed ahead, his dread pinned him in place.

“Do me a solid, Manes?”

“Yes.”

“Drag me in there.”

“Is that…really necessary?”

“I cannot physically walk into that room, so yeah, it looks like it,” Michael said, darkly amused.

Alex extricated his hands from Michael’s. “Don’t look away from me,” he ordered. “No matter what they do.”

Then Alex grabbed him by the elbow and forced Michael inside.

It made Michael’s brain go a little quieter. Pain was easier to face if he knew he had no choice. Alex’s face had gone into guard-mode---hard and unreadable. He was not the man who had touched him with such gentleness, and that was helpful as well. It forced Michael to build up his own mental shields for what was about to happen. He brought the names to mind as the doctors strapped him to the table.

Isobel. Max.

Alex managed to position himself by the door, directly in Michael’s sightline. The doctors brought a shiny metal tray of syringes.

Fuck, this was going to hurt.

Michael locked eyes with Alex.

Needles and bright lights and then the _pain_. It consumed everything. It went on forever.

Michael tried to keep track of Alex, but eventually his vision blurred and he couldn’t find him.

Isob---

Ma--

 

 

 

Michael regained consciousness and immediately wished he hadn’t. His bones felt charred. His skin hurt. His lungs ached when he breathed.

Cool hands on his wrists, pulling him up.

Michael protested weakly. That fucking _hurt_ , okay?

“I know, but you’ll thank me later. You don’t want to stay here.”

Alex.

Michael forced his eyes open. The lab was empty except for the two of them. Fuck, he must have been unconscious for a long time.

“Two hours, in and out,” Alex said. He slung Michael’s arm around his shoulders and levered him off the table. They stumbled together until Michael’s legs remembered how to walk.

“Come on, just a little farther and then you can rest.”

Alex was clearly furious. It radiated off him in a way that penetrated even Michael’s pain-dazed mind. But Alex didn’t hurt Michael when he was angry, so it was okay.

They made it to the cellblock somehow. Everything had a distant, dreamy quality.

Alex typed in a code, a door slid open, and he heard…

“What the hell did you do to him?”

Isobel was standing in front of him with agony on her face. In the way of dreams, there was no glass between them.

“He can stay with you tonight,” Alex said, his voice close to Michael’s ear, arm still supporting him. “I’ll work it out.”

Isobel reached for him, but pulled back at the last second. “Manes, I swear to god if this is some kind of trick…”

“S’okay, Iz,” Michael slurred.

And then she was pulling him away from Alex and into safety.

If this was a dream, it was a good one.

The cell door closed and Michael didn’t wake. Huh.

Isobel teetered under his weight and maneuvered so that when they fell, it was onto her cot. The jolt jarred his body and wrenched a groan from his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry.” They were lying on their sides, tangled together. Isobel still had her arms around him.

She had her _arms around him._

“Isobel?” he whispered.

“Michael.”

She was real. She was here. Michael pulled his sister closer, tucked himself up small inside the only home he’d ever known, and finally let himself cry.

She clutched him tightly as he fell apart, keeping up a soothing murmur of _shh, I’ve got you, it’s okay._

Michael fell asleep with her voice in his ears.

 

 

He woke up when Isobel shifted and almost pitched both of them off her cot. They flailed before settling again, clutching one another for balance. One glance at each other set them snickering.

The laughter was definitely hysterical and breathless, but Michael didn’t care. Some of the pain had faded and he was reasonably clear-headed now. He was with his sister, holy fucking shit.

Isobel seemed to be having a similar experience. She fumbled for her blanket and threw it over them, drawing it right up over their heads and blotting the lights into a cozy dimness.

“Remember when we were little and we used to make blanket tents?” she asked.

“You mean our forts?” Michael’s voice was raspy from screaming.

“I remember tents.”

“Mine was totally a fort.”

They were curved towards each other, voices barely a breath.

“I remember that it always felt so safe,” Isobel said. “Like the blanket could really protect us.”

Michael reached out and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

“Michael, what are they doing to you?”

“Isobel…”

“Don’t you dare say I’m better off not knowing. Flint was coming for me, that first time. If you had just let him take me, it would have been me in the lab this week.”

Michael’s hand spasmed in hers. “Better me than you or Max.”

“You’re our _brother_. Everything that happens to you happens to us.”

So Michael told her about the serum and the calculating eyes of the doctors. How each time he thought he was going to die and how it felt when he didn’t.

Isobel took it all in with the same gravity as her eleven-year-old self had given his blanket fort confidences. Isobel had always been his secret-keeper. It had been so long since he’d been able to whisper in her ear.

“You’re not telling all of it,” she said, finally.

“I am.”

“Alex Manes.” Her face held so much pain. “Tell me what he’s doing to you.”

“Nothing bad.”

She made a sound of disbelief.

Michael dropped his voice even lower. “He says he’s here to get us out.”

“Oh, Michael.” Isobel’s voice was sad.

“I know. I _know_. It’s just---he says he has this whole plan. I talked with his friend on the phone. He’s gonna hack the cameras…”

The longer he talked, the more he heard the impossibility of it. Removed from the overwhelming emotions Alex stirred in him, the words sounded like lies.

“Do you trust him?” 

He didn’t want the answer that he had to give, but he had never lied to Isobel.

“No,” Michael whispered. “He screws me up, Iz. He’s probably lying to me but it is just so hard to care.”

Isobel drew him in close again, making a quiet sound of pain.

“Everything hurts so much, all the time,” Michael said, exhausted. “Why should it matter if he hurts me too? I don’t care.”

“I do.” Isobel’s grip on his hand turned fierce. “These people are monsters.”

“Alex isn’t a bad person. He stopped dosing me with the serum---why would he do that if he didn’t want to help?”

“He stopped dosing you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you have your powers around him.”

“Um, yeah.”

“Michael,” she said slowly, “you have _all your powers_.”

He finally understood what she was saying and pulled away from her in shock. “Holy shit.”

“Can you do it?”

“I’ve never tried! Maybe. I think so.” His heart was pounding. “Even if he’s lying, we could get out of here.”

Isobel’s eyes were alive with hope and determination. “Yes. Yes, we could.”

 

 

* * * *

 

Alex hadn’t figured out where Flint had gone, but he blessed him for going. It he meant that he picked up Flint’s night shift, so he was the one in the control room while Michael and Isobel hid under a blanket. He didn’t turn the sound on, and he tried not to watch the monitor while he hacked the camera in her cell.

It was good to have a test run.

Rack that up with other lies he was telling himself, along with: his hands weren’t shaking and his emotions were completely under control.

God, he wanted to beat that interested smile off Dr. Bates’ face. He wanted to hit her until his knuckles shattered.

The way Michael had _screamed_ \---

Alex wrenched his thoughts back to coding. Fortunately, the process was complicated enough to demand his attention. After a few hours, he’d managed to loop video of the cell, concealing anything damning.

He hadn’t calmed down. If anything, he was more amped up than before, hyper aware that he was going to repeat this process the next night and finally get these three out of this hellhole.

After that? Well. He’d see what Michael wanted. And then he’d give it to him.

The night dragged on. Alex waited it out, watching the looped version of the footage to be sure nothing went wrong. So far, the test run was holding up well.

When the clock hit five in the morning, he set the loop to expire in thirty minutes and went back to the cellblock. It was still quiet. He could see Michael and Isobel curled together like puppies, and his fury grew hotter when he thought about how long they’d been separated.

Max Evans was awake. He was sitting by his cell door, watching his siblings. When he saw Alex, he tilted his head in acknowledgement. No death glare this time, but Alex was angry enough for both of them today. He nodded back.

He had almost let Max out as well, but Max would have probably tried to kill him before he could explain. He’d grovel tomorrow when they were out of here.

Loathe as he was to wake Michael and Isobel, he knocked on the glass.

They came awake instantly, the kind of awareness born from fear.

Michael knew why he was there. He said something to Isobel and stood up. He walked to the door without any assistance. Isobel sat on her cot, arms around herself, watching him go.

Alex held himself determinedly away from him. He didn’t want to touch Michael when he’d been spent all night fantasizing about beating people bloody. He couldn’t taint Michael with his violence, the Manes family curse that he could never exorcise.

Michael noticed. Alex saw him measure the space between them with a considering gaze while Alex opened his cell. He didn’t walk in.

“Actually,” Michael said carefully, “there’s something I want.”

That sounded like a better channel for this ferocity. “I’ll get it for you. What is it?”

“Your shower.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I smell like the labs.”

“Sure, of course. Wyatt’s asleep and Flint is still gone, it should be fine.”

Michael’s offered his wrists. “C’mon, Manes, hot water awaits.”

God, Alex never wanted to see handcuffs again. When they were back inside his room, he took off them off and flung them away. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Being with Isobel helped.”

“It was the least I could do, considering I stood there and let them torture you. Again.”

Michael closed the space between them with one step. “That upset you?”

Alex had to calm down. He was supposed to be careful around Michael. He tried to take a deep breath, but it snagged on the way. “Yesterday in the labs, you sounded---” Alex wanted to punch someone just thinking about it. “I can’t handle hearing you sound like that.”

“Can’t you?” Michael murmured, the impossible heat of him singeing Alex’s skin.

“No.”

It would be so easy to kiss Michael like this, righteous with fury and half-crazy with whatever this thing was between them.

Michael walked him backwards one step, two, until Alex’s back pressed against the wall. His eyes looked bright and a little wild. “You said you wouldn’t move until I say.”

Alex let his head fall back against the wall, helplessly. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“I don’t care.” Michael undid the buttons on Alex’s uniform shirt until he could push it off his shoulders, revealing the black tee underneath.

Michael slid his hands under the hem, and Alex couldn’t breathe. His hands were hot against Alex’s skin.

Michael leaned forward and pressed his mouth close to his ear. “Don’t move.” One of his hands slid up to press right over Alex’s heart. “Alex,” he whispered, “don’t move.”

And the world---

\---exploded.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Logical escape plans? Realistic prison protocol? Who has time for that when we have FEELINGS TO FEEL!)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Adapting alien powers to maximize the angst? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> (Also, note the changing tags and rating. There is some serious mind whammy dub-con ahead, so be good to yourselves!)

 

 

Alex had lost his leg to an IED. He had been walking through the desert and suddenly the world was nothing but fire. It hadn’t even hurt at first. The world had been so loud and so bright that it had consumed everything else.

Whatever Michael had done felt like that.

 

* * * *

 

 The world was in pieces and Michael only cared about the piece of it that was under his hands, thrumming with life and passion and _Alex._

He came back to himself slowly. Nothing had actually blown up. He was in Alex’s room and they were holding each other up, clinging like survivors.

He had marked a human for the first time.

Alex panted in harsh, shallow breaths against his cheek. “Michael,” he gasped, and Michael could feel him. Not just his body. He could feel him in his head, bright and chaotic.

Alex did some kind of fancy move that flipped them, Michael’s back against the wall.

And then Alex was kissing him.

He felt it in every part of himself, in every way he could feel. The shock of it dropped his mouth open, and Alex took it as an invitation. He pressed inside, hot and slow and inexorable. Alex kissed with the same determined singlemindedness that he did everything, and Michael could only tip his head back and let him in.

 His mind was a whirl of scraps that made no sense. There was nothing but the slide of Alex’s tongue against his.

Until there wasn’t.  

Alex ripped himself away, breathing hard. He pressed his hand to his mouth. It was shaking. “What did you do?”

His fear bloomed in Michael’s mind. Michael ran his hands down Alex’s arms soothingly. “You’re okay.”

Alex shuddered away from him. “Michael, what did you _do to me?_ ”

Michael could taste Alex on his lips and he didn’t want him to be afraid. “Calm down. Alex. Be calm, it’s all okay.”

“I don’t…I…”

Alex’s protests trailed off into confusion. He swayed back into Michael’s space, frowning, like he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. “Everything’s alright?”

Michael had known, theoretically, that a mark would give him the power to influence Alex’s emotions. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. “Yeah,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry. “You’re okay.”

Alex’s frown smoothed out, leaving him looking relaxed and well-kissed. “Okay, then.”

“Look, I had to do it,” Michael said, words tripping over themselves. “I couldn’t trust you, I’m sorry, but I _couldn’t_.”

“Hey, hey,” Alex soothed. “Whatever you did, it’s fine.”

It didn’t feel fine.

But this wasn’t about how Michael felt, or even how Alex felt. It was about getting his siblings out of Caulfield forever.

“Alex,” Michael said, concentrating hard on the desperate need for escape, “you have to get us out.”

“I’ll get you out,” Alex said, sounding dazed.

“Good.” Michael hesitated, hating himself for a few seconds. Then, almost against his will, he said, “Tell me the truth. Can I trust you?”

“You can trust me.” Alex reached for Michael, heat in his eyes. “I would never betray you, Michael. I care about you. I want you, even after this is done.” Alex pulled him close. “I want you in every way,” he whispered. “Every way there is.”

Which was when Michael knew for certain that what he had done to Alex was wrong.

The Alex Manes he’d gotten to know would never tell Michael these things. And he’d never kiss him, either. He would bury his own desires deep inside himself and leave Michael desperately wondering what was going on in his head. This wasn’t Alex. This was the Alex that Michael wanted.

Except now that he had it, Michael didn’t want it after all. Alex was saying exactly what he wanted to hear, and it didn’t mean a thing.

“What’s the matter?” Alex asked, so gently. “I can feel that you’re upset. Is that what you did? Can you feel me too?”

“Yes,” Michael choked out. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re not mad because I don’t want you to be mad.”

Alex hummed. His hands wandered into Michael’s curls, stroking them exactly the way Michael had fantasized about him doing. He pressed his lips to Michael’s and kissed him softly once, twice.

Alex had been drawing boundaries for them since this had started. Michael wasn’t an idiot---he knew Alex had done it to protect him, to give Michael some power in a situation where he was wildly powerless.

Returning the favor was the least he could do at this point.

“Maybe let’s wait for that,” Michael said shakily. “Right now I’m messing with your head pretty bad, even when I’m not trying to.”

Alex gave him a look. “I’m still going to want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.”

Michael felt a little lightheaded with Alex’s honesty. “Good to know.”

“You’re not going to let me?”

“You’ll thank me later.”

Alex huffed in clear disagreement. He pulled the collar of his shirt down and studied the glowing handprint Michael had left over his heart.

At the sight, some previously unknown part of Michael flared to life at the sight of his mark on a human, and not just any human. Alex. Alex was _his_ now.

Oh yeah, Michael had fucked up. He’d fucked up hard.

“What is this?” Alex said, only honest curiosity in his voice.

“It’s an alien thing,” Michael said hoarsely. “I linked our emotions together so I could influence you to…”

“To help you,” Alex finished steadily.

“I shouldn’t have, but Max and Isobel were counting on me.” Michael heard the pleading in his own voice.

“I was telling the truth before. I really do want to help you escape.”

Michael gave him a tight smile. Alex didn’t know what he wanted right now, and he wouldn’t for a few days. “It was a fucked up thing to do to you.”

“Yes,” Alex agreed.

“You’re going to hate me when it wears off.”

“I could never hate you.”

But he could, Michael knew. And he would.

“We should make our move now,” Alex continued. Michael saw his brain switch gears into soldier mode, all tactics. “Flint is gone, so we should take advantage of that. Let me run up to the control room and fix the cameras just in case. Then I’ll come back, get you, and we can spring the others.”

Michael could feel how much Alex meant it. He had no fear that Alex wouldn’t do what he said. Absolutely none. Michael could taste freedom on his tongue, as sweet and addictive as Alex’s kiss.

He wasn’t sure it was worth the price.

“I’ll wait for you here.”

“Lock the door,” Alex said, and slipped back into the hall.

 

* * * *

 

In the control room, Alex took a break from typing to rub his chest where Michael’s handprint rested under his shirt. Michael had said that his emotions weren’t his own anymore, but he wasn’t feeling anything that he hadn’t felt before. He still wanted to get the aliens out of Caulfield and he still wanted to kiss Michael. The only difference was how absolutely sure he felt about both of those things.

The confidence had to be coming from Michael. Alex had never been convinced of his own rightness.

He would worry about that later. Right now, the hack was almost complete.

The door to the control room opened behind him, a sound that sent him frantically hiding the windows of code on the screens. “Hey Wyatt, I thought you were still---”

Alex looked over his shoulder and the words died in his throat.

“Hello, son,” his father said.

His father was in the doorway.

He couldn’t help the blind, animal panic that overtook him for a second. He felt a wave of Michael’s answering concern and fear pushing back at him. That wasn’t helping. Dammit, where was the guy’s calm when he needed it?

“Dad,” he said, managing to keep his voice steady. “What brings you here?”

Jesse Manes looked the same as he always did: severe and unreadable. He walked into the room, surveying Alex with those eyes that never missed a fault. “I wanted to see how you’re getting along.”

Alex hated himself for being so afraid of him.

“Getting along fine,” he said.

“Is that so?”

“It’s not difficult.”

“You were the one who wanted the job,” Jesse said. “Practically begged me for it.”

“I don’t think I did, actually.” Alex wasn’t sure if the spark of anger was his or Michael’s, but at least it was helping him speak.

“It made me and Flint curious,” Jesse continued, like Alex hadn’t spoken. “You never had the stomach for this kind of work.”

“Yeah, well, getting my leg blown off changed my stomach a little bit.”

Jesse walked closer and Alex shot up from his chair. He was pressed into the desk, shielding the monitor with his body.

“Alex,” Jesse said. “What were you doing on that computer?”

He was too close. Too close. Old fear was freezing Alex in place and making his thoughts sluggish. “Testing security on the camera feeds. Why, dad? Don’t you trust me?”

“Your brother got me because he was concerned. These creatures have the ability to influence people with a weak will.”

Best offense was a good defense. “Always back to this. Look, make up your mind. Are you accusing me of being a traitor or being under alien influence? Can’t have it both ways.”

Even though Alex was, in fact, both.

Jesse stared him down with those ice-chip eyes. “Neither. I’m hoping that you remember the uniform you represent.” He gave Alex’s appearance a scathing once-over. “Even when you’re not wearing it.”

Alex remembered what had happened to his uniform shirt and had to stifle a hysterical laugh. “I don’t forget what the uniform means. It’s hard to forget when---”

The pain clubbed him from out of nowhere, so intense that Alex staggered against the desk. For a second, he thought his father had punched him. But no, Jesse was standing where he had been, watching Alex with a calculating expression.

It wasn’t just physical pain. It was a tidal wave of _agonyterrordread_ that was rising faster and faster, choking him.

Michael.

Alex realized he had his hand pressed over his chest. He dropped it, but it was too late. His father lunged, quick as a snake, yanking his collar down so hard the shirt tore.

When he saw the glowing handprint, Jesse hissed. It sounded triumphant.

Alex pushed him away, his body finally remembering his training. He was about to throw a punch when the pain struck again. This time he crumpled under the weight of it.

His father was on him in a flash, a knee on his back slamming him against the floor. Alex could barely breathe, much less fight back. He felt like someone was electrocuting him again and again, tremors of agony raking through him.

“What are you doing to him?” he gasped.

Jesse’s voice was dripping with disgust. “Wyatt said to look in your quarters for the missing prisoner. I sent Flint to do what he needed to do.”

“It’s not Michael’s fault! I forced him.”

“That mark says something different.” Jesse yanked Alex’s hands behind his back and snapped on a pair of handcuffs. He dragged Alex up by his hair. The pain was so familiar that Alex’s brain slipped a little bit. He was twelve and had accidentally broken a plate. He was fourteen and had missed curfew.

He was in Caulfield and he was going to die.

“You are a disgrace,” Jesse said calmly.

When his father hit him, it felt like he’d never stopped.

 

 

 

 

Alex lost time.

That used to happen a lot, back in the old days. He wasn’t surprised to suddenly come back to himself on the floor of a different room with no memory of getting there.

The room was clearly a cell, but with a metal door instead of a glass one. There was a large mirrored window in one wall. He was being observed and they’d uncuffed his hands. Ominous.

He couldn’t feel Michael in his head. Couldn’t feel anything. He felt suspended in a thick cocoon, weightless and numb.

Alex dragged himself into the corner of room opposite the door and waited blankly for it to open.

It didn’t take long.

But instead of Dr. Bates with her needles or Jesse Manes with a gun, it was Michael. Michael, stumbling from where he’d been shoved into the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

He looked grey and sick as he catalogued his surroundings, obviously drawing conclusions from the window and the fact that they were both in the same room without handcuffs. Alex saw the severity of his own injuries in Michael’s horrified expression. Then he watched the man wrestle his face into something like indifference for the sake of their cover.

“They found the handprint and the security footage,” Alex said. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Finally, some good fucking news,” Michael said, and limped across the room to slump into Alex’s arms.

Alex buried his aching face in Michael’s shoulder. Michael had collapsed between Alex’s legs and was draped over him, chest to chest, arms around his neck. It pressed hard on his sore body, but Alex didn’t care. It made him feel real.

“I felt them hurt you,” Michael said.

“Yes.”

“Flint had a fucking taser.”

“My father is here.”

Michael made a sound low in his throat. “Alex, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Mine. Careless, stupid. Waited too long. Got distracted…”

“I put the fucking mark on you to begin with. You could have salvaged this if you didn’t have it.”

Alex pressed his face harder into Michael’s shoulder. “Doesn’t matter.”

Michael sounded so tired when he said, “You know they won’t stop at observing us. You’re officially scientifically interesting.”

“Later. Please.”

“You’re right, my bad.” Michael pressed his lips to the top of Alex’s head, then pulled back. “There’s blood in your hair.”

“Surprise.”

Michael untangled himself from Alex, which brought the weightless feeling back again. “You’re acting weird and you feel strange,” Michael said, frowning at him. “Your emotions are all muffled.”

“Dissociation. Trauma.” Alex waved his hand vaguely. “It’ll pass.”

Michael captured his hands and rubbed them gently. It gave Alex something to focus on, an anchor to ground himself. He didn’t want Michael to stop.

“I got you,” Michael said quietly. He brought Alex’s fingers to his lips and kissed them, one at a time. He dropped a kiss into each open palm.

Alex’s connection to his body strengthened. He flexed his fingers experimentally and took stock. His face was hot and sore, but a quick check told him he still had all his teeth.

He did not have all his limbs. Someone had taken his prosthetic.

It was the kind of dick move someone in his family would have come up with. Probably Flint. God, what a bastard.

“That’s it,” Michael was saying. “Stay here with me. No one’s trying to kill us right now, so it’s a pretty okay place to be.”

“Not sure,” Alex managed. “You did stop kissing me.”

Michael’s drawn face lightened. “Am I an asshole or what?” And then he kissed the delicate skin on the underside of Alex’s wrists.

It was steadying. Alex could feel the higher functions of his brain finally coming back online. He took a deep breath. “Do you have a hand fetish we need to talk about, Guerin?”

“Every other part of you is beat to hell. And yeah, maybe a little.” He rubbed his thumb over Alex’s knuckles. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“You’d know more about your kinks than I would.”

“Alex.”

He kept his eyes trained on their entwined hands. Michael’s concern and affection burned bright in his head again, making the words easier. “It’s the same old story. My dad hit me and my brain decided I was seventeen again. You know.”

“I really do.”

“He even smells the same. God.”

Michael started to pull Alex into his arms again, then stopped. “You are covered in bruises.”

“I don’t care if you hurt me.”

Michael’s face was complicated. “Well, I care.”

“I know, I can feel it.” Alex let the warmth of that settle into his bones. “I’ve always wanted someone to care about that.”

“Fuck.” Michael squeezed his hands. “Your dad is an abusive dick.”

“Yes he is.” Michael’s insane confidence was back in Alex’s head. For the first time, he said those words and fully, completely believed them. “He really _is_.”

Alex raised his voice and faced the observation window. “You hear that? Jesse Manes is an abusive dick!”

Michael shouted, “You’re all abusive dicks, go to prison!”

“Go to hell!”

“Go to your mama and confess what you’ve done!”

Alex liked the sharp smile on Michael’s face. He liked the knowing in his eyes, the awareness that they were poking the bear and the willingness to accept the consequences.

If these were actually Michael’s feelings, Alex was happy to have them.

When the door of their cell slammed open, neither of them flinched.  

 

* * * *

 

Taking Alex’s leg was a new level of nasty. Like, there was no _reason_ for it. He had an arm wrapped around his ribs and his face was a mottled mess. Alex was already hurt, okay?

But here they were, limping down the hallway to the labs, Michael desperately trying to keep Alex from falling. Thank god they hadn’t cuffed them.

“You could at least get him a crutch,” Michael snapped.

Flint Manes had his hand on his gun, watching them from behind. “No.”

“To be fair,” Alex panted, “I’d probably hit him with it.”

Michael tightened his arm around him. Alex was not back to normal, but at least he was back from whatever numb space he’d been floating in.

Michael needed Alex present right now. Actually, no, what he needed was the _real_ Alex, not a mind-whammied, pliant version who told Michael everything he wanted to hear. But Michael had fucked up and this was the consequence.

And he’d take any version of Alex he could get.

When they got to the labs, all the doctors were waiting for them. There was an excitement in the air that set Michael’s skin prickling. Dr. Bates watched them walk in with her bright eyes and curious smile.

“Hi doctor,” Alex said. “Any chance you’ll take it easy?”

“Sorry you got caught up in this, Alex, but you know how it is. The work comes first.” Dr. Bates did not sound sorry. “Sit on the lab table, please.”

“I think I’ll stand.”

Flint shoved Alex towards the examination table so hard Michael lost his grip. He caught Alex’s arm in time to stop him from falling.

“C’mon,” Michael muttered, “let’s just sit.”

Alex’s jaw was set. Michael could feel the embarrassment, more potent than the pain. It was such bullshit. Out of everyone this room, Alex had the least reason to be ashamed.

Alex used Michael’s arm to level himself up onto the table. Michael sat next to him, pressed firmly against his side. He hadn’t been told to, which was unnerving. The doctors were focused on Alex and it was freaking Michael the fuck out.

“Show us,” Dr. Bates said, alight with anticipation.

Alex gave her a flat look. Michael recognized that stubbornness and jumped in to play defense. “Woah now, you know we’re not like that. Take us out for drinks first.” He nudged Alex gently. “Right Alex?”

Alex’s posture softened, just like Michael had wanted it to. “I like margaritas.”

“He likes margaritas,” Michael said. “Can we get one of those, please?”

Flint stepped forward with a growl, but Alex had unbent enough to pull down the ripped collar of his shirt, displaying the handprint.

The doctors in the room buzzed. The air was electric.

Dr. Bates moved forward, fascinated.

“Doctor,” Flint said sharply. “I wouldn’t advise that.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “I’m very dangerous.”

Dr. Bates smiled. She had a lovely smile. “I can strap you down and cut that shirt off you, or you can take it off yourself and stay where you are. Your choice.”

Alex was already tense again, gearing up for resistance. He wanted to make these people fight for every inch they took.

But he was on Michael’s turf now. Michael did not want to see Alex strapped to this table, and he’d become an expert at coaxing the people he loved into surviving.

He tugged gently at the hem of Alex’s shirt. “I’ve been wanting to get this off you anyway. Let me?”

Sure, with the handprint in the mix Michael was playing some dirty pool, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to see Alex beat up again if he could help it.

“I know what you’re doing,” Alex murmured.

“You always were a smart one. Lift your arms, private.”

“Not a solider,” Alex said, and let Michael pull off his shirt.

“Interesting,” one of the doctors said.

This was the reason they’d been left the use of their hands and been allowed to talk so much. There was a video camera in the corner of the lab, and Michael knew the footage would be gone over and analyzed.

Right now all he cared about were the bruises on Alex’s torso, most still an angry red, some darkening to black. Michael wanted to snap Jesse Manes’ neck.

The doctors swarmed them. They took pictures and scans and readings. They asked a million questions: _what does it feel like, how did it happen, what are the effects?_

They put their hands all over Alex. The new possessive thing in Michael’s chest did not like that.

Alex didn’t either. He tightened until he was ready to snap. The tension thrummed between them, no matter how much Michael tried to project calm.

After endless hours, the questions trickled to a halt.

“Alright,” Dr. Bates said, “B-3, mark him.”

Alex’s eyes flew to Michael.  

“I already did,” Michael said, stupidly.

“I am aware,” Dr. Bates said with exaggerated slowness. “I want you to do it again.”

“But he still has the first one.”

Alex gripped his knee hard, a silent warning. But Dr. Bates wasn’t getting it, and Michael had this desperate idea that if he could just explain it in words she’d understand, she would change her order.

“B-3,” Dr. Bates said, “Wyatt Long is watching the other subjects right now. He will hurt them if you make this difficult.”

One of the doctors stabbed Michael in the arm with a shot.

“The antidote for serum will kick in soon. I want to see how many times you can do it.” Dr. Bates made a note of something on her clipboard. “And I want to see what it will do to Alex, of course.”

If invading Alex’s head once had been a mistake, doing it again was unforgivable. Alex’s fear was beating in Michael’s head, but Michael didn’t have anything other than fear to offer back.  

He swallowed. “I won’t do it.”

“ _Michael_.”

Flint Manes stepped forward, casually, and cracked Michael across the face.

Finally, inevitably, Alex’s control broke. He lunged off the table. Even bruised and missing his leg, he tackled Flint to the ground. Alex was a force of nature. He was precise and deadly, and Michael got a glimpse of the kind of solider he must have been. Alex had his brother in a chokehold and Flint was turning red.

The doctors were shouting. Michael was torn between letting Alex finish and ripping him away.

He hesitated too long. The door slammed open and Jesse Manes stormed into the room to kick Alex hard, breaking his grip. He dragged Alex up and said something, too low to hear, that made Alex freeze. His eyes flicked to Michael and then away again. He nodded curtly.

“Apologies,” Jesse said, pulling Alex back to the table. “Flint isn’t usually so careless.”

Flint was on his feet, coughing, but still able to point his gun at Alex.

“Don’t damage them,” Dr. Bates said sharply. “Put that thing away.”

“It makes him feel secure,” Alex said and Michael loved him for it.

Jesse dug his fingers into the back of Alex’s neck. “Move,” he told Michael.

And fuck it all, Michael did.

Jesse pushed Alex down onto the table, and Alex went, unresisting. He was strangely cooperative, even when Jesse strapped him down, tightening the plastic straps around his wrists, his ankle, his hips. Michael felt Alex’s mental shudder when his father’s hands touched his bare skin, but outwardly, he was calm.

Michael couldn’t tear his eyes away from Alex, spread out and pinned. He wanted to bleach the sight from his brain.

Jesse rounded on him. Michael took a step back, but Jesse was faster. He got in his space, and Michael a teenager again on the worst day of his life. Jesse Manes’ eyes were the same pitiless blue. “I want us to understand each other,” he said quietly. “I currently hold everyone you care about in the palm of my hand. If you do not cooperate, I will crush them. So before you try to be a hero, use that brain of yours. Think about Max and Isobel.”

Those names from that mouth hit Michael like a slap. No one except Alex had used their names in ten years. Michael wanted to rip the words off Jesse’s lips.

Jesse knew it too. He stepped back, satisfied. “Get on with it.”

Michael moved unsteadily to stand beside the lab table. “Don’t know how to break it to you, Alex, but I don’t think your dad likes me very much.”

“And here I thought you were the charming one.”

“Nah, that’s you.”

“It really isn’t.” Alex’s smile was a brief glimpse of sunshine before the clouds covered it again. “Do whatever they ask you to do. I came here to help you, and it’s just too ironic if you get hurt trying to protect me.”

Michael felt panic growing in his throat and wasn’t sure if it was his or Alex’s. “If I do this, I’m really going to mess you up.”

Alex took a deep breath. “Better you than them.”

Michael understood that at a deep, fundamental level. He put his hand on Alex’s bare chest, underneath his first handprint.

Alex scanned the room, seeing god-knows-what on the faces of his father and brother. Red flushed his cheeks. Embarrassment again. Michael brought his other hand up to Alex’s cheek and turned his face back towards him. “Hey, don’t look away from me. Remember?”

Alex’s eyes met his. “Do it.”

Michael brought all his power to the front of his mind and concentrated on the man lying in front of him. And then he _pushed_.

 

* * * *

 

It was better this time, because Alex knew what was happening. When his world whited out, he didn’t think of explosions or the desert. He didn’t think of pain.

He thought of Michael.

He felt Michael everywhere, like the man was touching every part of his body, touching inside him. He wanted it. He wanted more and more, wanted to drink Michael down until he choked on him.

Michael was hovering above him, excruciatingly out of reach. His face blocked out the bright lights. Alex tried to reach for him, but his arms were strapped down. His fingers grasped at nothing.

“Michael?”  

“I’m right here.”

He ached for him in a way he’d never thought possible. It physically hurt, deep in his chest. “Michael _._ ”

Finally, finally, Michael’s hot hands spread over Alex’s chest. The contact was good. Alex stopped straining and fell back against the table. He wanted to lie here forever.

“Alex, stay with me.” Michael’s voice was choked, which drew Alex’s attention like nothing else could. He opened his eyes---he hadn’t realized they were closed again---to search Michael’s expression. It was twisted, like Michael was in pain.

Alex tried to raise his hand again to rub that look off his face, but the restraints stopped him. “Are you hurt?”

Michael laughed, watery and sad. “No.”

“That’s good,” Alex said. He pushed himself up into Michael’s hands. “Mm, that’s really good. More.”

“Shh.”

“I want you,” Alex said, because it was the only truth that he had.

“Alex, they can hear you.”

“I don’t care. I want you to---“

Michael kissed him. It was a closed-mouth kiss, just a press of the lips, really. It was not what Alex had meant, and he growled his frustration in the back of his throat. Michael rubbed his hands soothingly on his chest and pulled away.

“You’ll care later,” Michael whispered. “Please shut up.”

“Make me.”

Michael placed one finger over his lips. Alex opened his mouth and sucked the whole thing inside.

He felt Michael’s pleasure spill over into his own brain before he took his hand away.

“Jesus Christ,” someone muttered.

“B-3.”

“Huh?” Michael said.

“Mark him again.”

“Are you batshit, doc? I’ll fry his brain!”

“I was not asking for your opinion.”

“Look at him!”

“Would you prefer Flint to pay the others a visit?”

“This is _wrong_.”

The pain in Michael’s voice brought Alex back again. He mustered all of his thoughts and forced them into coherent words. “Do it. It’s okay. Do it.”

 

* * * *

 

Alex was a panting, writhing thing under Michael’s hands. Michael could barely look at what he’d done, but he’d promised not to look away and so he wouldn’t. Alex threw himself against the restraints, arching his back off the table.

“Hold him!” a doctor ordered.

Exhaustion dragged at his muscles, but Michael’s brain revolted at the thought of anyone else touching Alex when he was like this.

He dragged himself up onto the table and straddled him. “Easy,” he rasped. “Alex, I’m right here.”

Alex whined. It was not a sound he would ever want anyone in this room to hear, and Michael leaned down to capture it in his mouth. He wanted to keep these vulnerable, agonized noises between the two of them.

There was a reason he wasn’t supposed to kiss Alex, but he was having a really hard time remembering what it was.

Alex arched up into him, grinding against him as best he could. Michael definitely knew that wasn’t something they should be doing right now. He got up on his knees, away from the temptation that was Alex’s body. Alex made a sound of pain. Michael’s heart twisted.

Then, inexorable, Dr. Bates’ voice: “Again.”

 

* * * *

 

He was going to die in Caulfield, except his father wasn’t going to be the killer.

That was a pretty big consolation.

 

* * * *

 

Alex’s cheeks were wet and Michael could no longer hold himself up. Someone had shoved him onto a stool next to the table and Michael slumped there, fighting for consciousness.

The link between him and Alex shrieked with feedback like an overloaded circuit. Any pleasure that had been present before was swallowed up by the feeling of _too much._

Alex took shallow breaths that sounded like sobs.

Michael used all his strength to put a hand on his chest, aching to comfort him.

For the first time, Alex flinched.

Michael wanted to cry. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I won’t.”

Alex turned his head towards him and closed his eyes.

Time blurred. He thought that maybe the doctors understood that they had reached the end of their endurance. At least, they didn’t force Michael to try again. He couldn’t, at this point, even if he’d been able to make himself do it.

He should have known better than to count on the humanity of these people.

The door of the lab opened, and Michael’s overloaded brain sent up a flare of familiarity.

“Get these off me! Let me help him!”

Strong hands held Michael’s shoulders. He wasn’t afraid of these hands. He leaned all his weight forward into them because he knew they would never let him fall.

“Max,” he breathed.

“Hey there.” Max’s face was looking at him with worry and love all mixed together.

Michael was too exhausted to wonder why Max was standing in front of him. Every part of him felt bruised and he wanted his brother. Who the fuck cared why he got him?

“I didn’t want to do it,” Michael said, because Max was the good one. He was always so disappointed in Michael when he screwed up.

“Don’t worry about that right now, okay?”

“I fucked him up.” Michael needed Max to understand so that he could fix it. Max always fixed everything.

“He’s not important,” Max said firmly. “You’re what matters.”

“Alex matters.” Michael slumped deeper into Max’s hold. “So damn much.”

“Okay,” Max said, bewildered but still so steady. “Then we’ll take care of him too. Right now I need you to take a deep breath. Good. Take another one. Open your mouth and drink this.”

Following Max’s orders was blissful. Michael hadn’t allowed himself to obey someone without thinking in ten years. With Max, he could let go. Whatever Max told him to do would be the right thing to do.

“Eat this---chew it slowly. Slowly!”

Between the acetone and the crackers, Michael eventually felt steadier. Enough to get a good look at Max. Warm eyes looked back at him, creased with worry.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, Michael, of course.”

Michael turned himself back to Alex, reluctant to face what he’d done but desperate to see him. “Is he…?”

“He’s breathing.” Max saw the handprints littering Alex’s chest. “Shit. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. He’s the one who’s hurt.”

It was true. Alex’s eyes were still closed and he was still as death.

Michael wiped the tears off Alex’s cheeks with his thumb. “Can you hear me? Alex?”

Alex made a vague, affirmative noise.

Their bond hurt. If it was hurting Michael, he could only imagine what it felt like to Alex.

Max watched him. “I thought he was like Wyatt.”

“No.” Michael brushed Alex’s sweaty hair out of his eyes. “He came to help us.”

It was the truth. Michael knew it, beyond psychic bonds and whatever else.

“B-2,” Dr. Bates said, “you’re pushing the boundaries of our arrangement.”

Max glared at her. “Give me a minute.”

“Arrangement?”

Max looked at Alex a little too long before answering.

Michael finally started to think again. Nothing in Caulfield was ever free. And while he was grateful to have Max here, Michael was pretty sure he knew what price the doctors had asked.

“Max,” Michael began.

“I know. I get it,” his brother said. He looked just like he used to in high school, convinced of a righteous cause.

“B-2,” Dr. Bates snapped. “Mark him. Now.”

Alex made a terrible sound.

Max placed himself between the doctors and Alex. “Sorry,” he said blandly, “can’t do it.”

“And why not?”  

“Two aliens can’t mark the same human. Didn’t you know that?”

“You said you could!”

“I lied,” Max said. “I wanted to see my brother.”

Dr. Bates narrowed her eyes at them. “I think you’re lying now.”

He was.

“I’m not,” Max said. “Bring Isobel in if you don’t believe me.”

“We will,” Dr. Bates said grimly. “Manes, see if you can’t convince him to try, will you?”

Max patted Michael on the back and stepped away from him, just in time to get Flint’s taser in his chest.

Michael buried his face in Alex’s shoulder and tried to block out the sounds. He didn’t know what to feel or what he should be hoping for. He just wanted it to end.

They hurt Max for a long time. So long that Michael thought this would be it, that they would all die today. But in the end, the doctors couldn’t lose one of their subjects. They dragged him up and Max spat blood onto the floor. “I couldn’t do it if I wanted to,” he said. “That guy is Michael’s now.”

It felt true. Even if it was a load of crap Max was inventing to save Alex’s life. Max had always been a damn romantic, but it didn’t make him wrong.

Michael tried to put all his gratitude into his eyes. Max gave him a bloody smile as Flint marched him away.

He came back with Isobel, who saw how Michael was draped over Alex and said, “Nope, not happening. Totally impossible.”

Freaky twin telepathy.

“Very well,” Dr. Bates finally said. “Let’s move on, then.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments have seriously been the light of my life. I treasure each one. THANK YOU.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff! I mean...it's mostly angst. But it's fluffy angst?

 

 

When Alex opened his eyes, it felt like he was coming awake properly for the first time since this all started.

He’d been in the lab for days, hooked up to monitors and needles and god knew what else. The awful weight had released in slow cinches, a straightjacket unbuckled at glacial speed. Michael had said the mark would fade and he’d been right. When Alex had stopped convulsing from pain that wasn’t actually his, the doctors had stopped hurting him.

They’d taken him to the cellblock, which had been funny in an awful kind of way. They’d put him in the glass-doored cell next to Max, and Alex had been grateful because he couldn’t see Michael from there.

He didn’t want to see Michael. Even his mind shied away from thinking about him. It was instinctual self-preservation, like not wanting a hot shower after a sunburn.

Instead, Alex stared at the ceiling of his cell and didn’t think at all.

He didn’t think all day, as the sun filled the cellblock with bright light. The soundproof cell was so quiet that he felt like he could dissolve into it.

Dissolving sounded nice.

Except, there was movement across the hall from him. Isobel, waving for his attention.

He was tempted to ignore it. But he had already failed her, and Isobel deserved so much better. He turned his head to look at her.

She was frowning at him. It was not the kind of frown you’d give someone who had just re-doomed you to a life of imprisonment. She looked concerned.

Isobel held up her hands and touched each finger to her thumb with exaggerated slowness. When he just stared, she rolled her eyes. She gave him a very _get with the program_ gesture.

She repeated the movement, fingers to thumb: tap, tap, tap, tap. She pointed at him.

Slowly, Alex copied her.

Isobel changed the order.

Alex followed: tap, tap, tap, tap.

As Isobel’s patterns grew increasingly complex, Alex sat up and focused, interested despite himself. His brain liked complicated sequences---it was part of what made him such a good codebreaker. Soon, he and Isobel were trading off leading and copying, seeing who could trip the other up first. Little by little, that dissolving feeling went away.

When Alex won with a clever triple pinky tap, Isobel gave him the gift of just one finger. Alex smiled. It felt slow and rusty, but real.

“Thank you.”

Isobel softened. He wasn’t sure when he’d ended up in her good books, but he obviously had. She pressed her hand against the door of her cell.

Alex had seen that gesture before. He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew it was important.

So he pushed himself up, leaned against the wall for balance, and put his palm against the glass.

Isobel smiled back at him.

Her focus shifted away from him, looking to her left where Michael’s cell was. Her smile dimmed.

Alex turned away.

 

 

* * * *

 

The slow fade of the bond had been like watching Alex bleed out in front of him. Michael felt him slip away, a little more every day, until there was nothing. He knew Alex wasn’t dead, because Isobel had managed to communicate that he was in a cell across from her. She’d been playing that weird tapping game with him. Or well, _losing_ the tapping game. Of course Alex would be good at that, he was good at everything.

Michael knew he’d lost the right to feel anything for Alex. Alex had given him kindness after kindness and Michael had betrayed him.

 _Betrayed_? Fuck, why be vague about it in the privacy of his own head? Michael had forced himself on Alex and violated him. That went beyond betrayal. He was intimately familiar with the kind of monster that made him.

Movement in the hallway. As if Michael’s thoughts had conjured him, Wyatt Long walked onto the cellblock.

Michael felt a bleak kind of relief. Wyatt would give Michael exactly what he deserved. The perfect punishment to fit the crime.

Fuck someone up, get fucked up. That was justice that Max’s Russian authors would approve of.

When Wyatt opened the hatch, Michael stuck his arms through without prompting.

 “Eager, ain’t ya?” Wyatt observed. His fingers were painful when he held Michael’s wrist to inject him and put on the handcuffs. “Hold your horses, we’re not going far.”

Michael let the man yank him down the hallway, past Isobel, past Max.

There was Alex. In a cell. Oh, Michael deserved everything Wyatt was going to do. He deserved a lifetime of it.

Alex stood at the door, one hand in a fist, the other used for balance. He was staring at Wyatt with a dark, flat hatred.

Wyatt paused by his door and opened the hatch. “Hey there, Manes. Got your boy.”

“You’re disgusting,” Alex said.

Wyatt shrugged. “Pot calling the kettle black, dontcha think? Now hop on back from this door. Or not, I don’t really care if I shoot you.”

Alex moved back to stand against the far wall with a look of deep suspicion. Wyatt typed in the code and unlocked his handcuffs. When the door opened Michael was pushed in and---oh _fuck no_ \---the door closed shut behind him.

“I got my orders,” Wyatt said. “Weird-ass orders, if you ask me. Still, I never say no to a show. Give the cameras a wave for me.”

Then he closed the hatch and left Michael alone with Alex.

This was justice of a different sort. Honestly, Michael would have preferred Wyatt.

“How badly are you hurt?” Alex asked.

It was so completely different from what Michael had been expecting that the words didn’t make sense. “What?”

“Did they break any bones?”

“What? I’m fine, how---how are you?”

“Still got the one leg, so I can’t complain,” Alex said mildly. “How long since you ate?”

“Alex.”

“They haven’t given us food today, so I’m assuming it’s been at least twenty-four hours. Are you dizzy?”

Alex was looking at him with that old, bland courtesy. His expression was a polite shell, hard and impenetrable as steel. Now that Michael knew the fire and fury that made up Alex’s core, this smooth calm looked lifeless.

A sinking feeling started growing in Michael’s stomach. “What the fuck are you doing right now?” 

“Checking on you. It’s not exactly a disproportional response, Guerin.”

Michael had expected furious questions and betrayed accusations. He hadn’t expected this. He walked forward and captured Alex’s hands with his own. “Alex, quit---“

Alex jerked his hands away.

They stared at each other for a gruesome, silent second. Alex shook his head and offered something he probably thought was a smile. “Look, I don’t blame you for what happened. Let’s move past it.”

“Move past---are you kidding me with this?”

“In war there are no good choices.”

“This isn’t a war right now, Alex. This is a conversation. Talk to me!”

“If you want to talk, let’s talk about why they let you in here in the first place. They’re clearly studying your powers. Mind control would be a useful weapon.”

“It’s not mind control,” Michael said, before he could stop himself.

“Okay,” Alex said evenly, “but it sure felt like it.”

Michael wanted to hack off his own hands. “I’m sor---”

“If research is what they’re after, they’re going to need to repeat the experiment. We should be ready for that.”

Alex’s words were useless. They weren’t telling Michael anything he wanted to know. So he focused on Alex’s body instead. That’s where he could read everything Alex wasn’t saying: the tension and stress, the taut muscles and clenched fists. Alex was afraid and furious, and Michael wasn’t even sure he knew it.

Michael had no idea what to do when faced with this version of Alex Manes. Plus, he was exhausted and hurting and he didn’t want Alex to hate him. So he took the coward’s way out. “Sure, let’s plan.”

The relief in Alex’s shoulders almost made Michael believe he’d done the right thing.

 

* * * *

 

Alex was fine. He would tell himself that as often as he needed to convince himself.

He was perfectly fine.

Michael was a good person. He believed that. Michael had made a mistake. He clearly felt badly about it now, so they were all good.

Move on, Manes.

Still, Alex was grateful when Michael picked a spot on the floor far away from the cot. He was more grateful when Michael focused on the mission, talking with him about timeframes and typical experiment schedules.

“I don’t think they’ll try to bring the others in again,” Michael said. “Max was pretty convincing.”

Alex’s brain stalled.

He didn’t want to ask, but he liked uncertainty even less. “When was Max there?”

Michael stared at him. Alex straightened his spine so that he didn’t curl up under the weight of it.

“Alex, what do you remember?”

 _You_ , Alex wanted to say. His memories of the last few days were a mush of pain and desperation, all covered over by the constant awareness of Michael’s presence. “I remember the first and second mark. I think I remember telling you do it a third time. It’s hazy from there.”

Michael wrapped his arms around himself. He looked very small and very scared. But he answered the question that Alex had been too afraid to ask. “I gave you four. Max came in after that, but he didn’t mark you.”

So he had lost a significant amount of time. Alex turned that into data, ruthlessly stripping the emotion out of it. “Good to know.”

The implications were overwhelming. He remembered kissing Michael, remembered melting into his arms and curling up with him in the observation cell. He had wanted to do all of those things before the mark, but the mark had removed his ability to say no.

What else had he been unable to say no to?

Panic built inside his chest.

“I kissed you a few times,” Michael said, because despite everything he somehow knew what Alex needed. “I’m sorry. I was really out of it by the end and you were---it was like it hurt you when I didn’t touch you. I held you down the last time, here and here.” Michael showed him exactly where he’d put his hands.

“I don’t remember that.”

“Nothing else happened,” Michael said. His voice cracked. “I swear I’m not lying.”

“I believe you.”

It was the truth. He trusted Michael beyond anything reasonable, beyond logic and sense and the roiling in his stomach.

“I’m sorry.”

“I gave you my permission,” Alex reminded him.

“Not for the first one. I just did it without asking. I should have fucking _asked_.”

Alex brushed that away. He didn’t want to think about it. “I told you, I don’t blame you.”

“You should! You should be pissed!”

“It’s fine.”

Michael’s next question was hesitant. “What did it feel like for you?”

Alex’s whole body tightened. “Good,” he said shortly. “Then not so good. We’re getting off topic, let’s refocus. I think they’re withholding food to make us easier to subdue. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have much left in me.”

“Same.”

“So fighting isn’t an option.”

“They’d just hurt Isobel and Max, anyway.”

Right.

 

 

 

Conversation effectively killed, they sat in silence. Eventually, the doctors must have gotten bored, because Flint showed up and opened the hatch.

“B-3, stay back. Alex, come with me.”

Michael looked like he wanted to argue, but Alex gave him a Captain Look and let Flint cuff him.

Flint had a hold of Alex’s arm and was half supporting, half dragging him toward the lab. “Don’t you ever get tired of being the black sheep of the family?”

“It seemed better than being a genocidal, torturing rapist.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like they’re human.”

Alex looked at his brother. Really looked. They shared the same dark eyes that they’d gotten from their mother, and Alex felt a flicker of regret for what might have been. “Do you remember that time you helped me finish my science fair project? That stupid potato thing? I’d ruined it, but somehow you got it working again.”

Flint clenched his jaw.

“I think that was the nicest thing anyone in that house ever did for me,” Alex said.

“Jesus, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Not for you.”

“You were always causing trouble!” Flint was angry now, a Manes anger that Alex recognized as a response to threat. “If you’d just kept your head down and followed orders, everything would have been fine. But no, you’re still making messes and expecting your family to clean up after you. Well, we’re done. This was your last chance and you blew it.”

They’d reached the lab. Alex moved away from Flint’s grasp and used the lab table to steady himself. “Your chances don’t matter to me,” he said. “I know who my family is and it’s not you.”

Flint scoffed and gave him a shove that pushed him down onto the table. “Whatever. I’m starting to seriously think you deserve this.”

The doctors strapped him down and inserted their needles. The beeping from the machines and the click of their keyboards mingled with conversation to provide almost pleasant white noise.

Alex thought about the people he trusted, his real family. His mind was so far away that he didn’t pay attention when one of the doctors came close and fiddled with the straps at his wrist.

She whispered, “Alex.”

He slammed back into the present, completely and shockingly awake.

Liz Ortecho was standing next to him. She was wearing a Caulfield lab coat and had a white-knuckle grip on a clipboard. Her eyes burned with rage. He almost flinched before he remembered that Liz was probably not angry with him.

Fear spread through Alex’s blood like ice water. Liz could not be here. Not in this place. Not her.

She squeezed his hand and then bent her head over her clipboard while she muttered to him. “Don’t worry, we have a plan. Would your login still work?”

“Probably,” Alex said, his voice barely a croak. “Camera hack’s ready.”

“Password?” 

“Cobain. In binary.”

Liz’s face twisted like she was trying not to cry. “I love you,” she whispered furiously. “Don’t die.”

Then she was gone, leaving Alex buzzing with anxiety and adrenaline. Liz and Kyle were smart and he didn’t doubt their plan was a good one. But his father was still in the building and the thought of the two of them going up against him was truly terrifying.

He clenched and unclenched his muscles, forcing the blood to circulate. He had to be ready to run.

 

* * * *

 

Michael paced in Alex’s cell, worrying. Without their connection he didn’t know if Alex was hurting. They could be doing anything to him.

Alex could be dead.

There was movement in the hallway. A doctor, one he didn’t recognize: dark hair, good cheekbones. He was moving quickly and looked nervous, which was unusual. He didn’t have a guard with him, which was suspicious.

Dr. Handsome McShady glanced at his phone before stopping in front of Michael’s cell and opening the hatch. “Are you Michael Guerin?”

Ooh yeah, super shady. “Why the fuck are you asking?”

“I’m here to get you out. I’m Alex’s friend, Kyle Valenti.”

Michael took a step towards the door. Alex had told him about Kyle, but he hadn’t shown him a picture. “Prove it.”

The man looked frazzled. He was clearly not used to high-stakes rescue missions. “I can’t! We need to go now!”

“Prove. It.”

“Dammit, what was it Liz and Alex said? Um, I’m Skywalker here to rescue you?”

Michael’s heart rose. “Yeah, okay, good enough for now. Get me out of here, Valenti.”

“Liz used Alex’s login to get the codes and run his hack on the cameras.” Kyle looked at his phone again and typed in the combination to Michael’s cell. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes before the guards notice.”

The door opened and Michael moved, grabbing the phone from Valenti’s hands. It was open to a text chain from Liz, the codes for all the cells there for him to use.

“Hey, easy,” Valenti protested.

Michael ignored him. He was already typing the code into Isobel’s door. She watched him with panicked eyes. When it slid open, she flew out and got between him and Valenti.

“I think he’s Alex’s friend,” Michael said, moving to Max’s door. “Don’t break him.”

“Yes, please don’t,” Valenti said.

Max came out of his cell spoiling for a fight. He grabbed Michael’s shoulder and shoved him behind him. “Who are you?” he barked at Valenti.

“He knows Alex,” Isobel confirmed. She glanced at Valenti scathingly. “Pretty cold, kissing him and leaving him out to dry.”

“What?” Valenti yelped.

Michael frowned. “You kissed him?”

“Nine minutes,” Valenti said desperately. “More escaping, less talking!”

“You’re not even his type.”

Max hesitated, then said, “If you really know Alex, we’ll follow your lead.”

“Thank god,” Valenti said. “Phone?”

Michael handed it over grudgingly. Valenti took off at a brisk pace, looking at the screen. “Alex cleared us a route on the cameras. As long as we don’t run into anyone in the hall, we should be okay.”

“Where is he?” Michael demanded.

“Liz is getting him. They’ll meet us.”

“You’d better be right about that,” Isobel said sweetly. “Or I will melt your brain.”

Valenti’s reply was cut off when they turned a corner and ran straight into Flint Manes.

Michael’s power punched out of him. It slammed the man against the wall before he could reach for his radio. Max was there in a second, hands around Flint’s throat, squeezing.

“You,” Isobel said in a terrible voice.

She and Michael closed ranks with Max, the three of them gathered around Flint like a pack of jungle cats. Michael’s powers wavered. Max growled, “I’ve got him,” and Michael let go, fighting the urge to throw up from the strain.

“Iz?” he said, because this was her demon. She got to decide how to slay it.

Isobel reached for his hand. He held it tightly. “I want to do something,” she said firmly. “Max, stop.”

Max loosened his grip slightly.

Flint choked out a breath. “Monsters,” he wheezed.

Isobel advanced on him. “Baby, you have no idea.”

Flint’s eyes rolled back in his head. Isobel’s face went pale with exertion and she leaned heavily on Michael, but she didn’t stop.

“Okay,” she finally gasped. “Done.”

Max dropped Flint, who fell to the floor convulsing. He went to Isobel’s other side and helped Michael support her down the hallway.

“What did you do?” Valenti asked. He sounded horrified, but he was still leading them out.

“I trapped him in a memory,” Isobel said. “Since he liked spending time with me so much, I figured he could enjoy it from my perspective. At least, until his head explodes.”

Michael tightened his grip around her. “You’re a fucking badass.”

“Proud of you,” Max added.

Valenti looked a little queasy.

Max had his eye on him. “Did you bring a gun?”

“I’m a doctor, man. I’m already breaking my oath leaving Flint there like that. I knew him when we were kids.”

“If you knew him,” Isobel said, “you know why we’re leaving him.”

Valenti didn’t try to argue.

They moved as fast as they could. Michael was struggling to keep up, weak from using his powers and everything that had come before. Max was practically dragging them both. There was a large metal door ahead that Michael had never seen open.

“Kyle!”

That was Liz’s voice, Michael recognized it from the phone. She ran towards them. Alex was with her, covering their retreat.

He had his leg back and he was steady on his feet. He didn’t have a shirt and his paleness made the bruises stand out even more starkly, but he was there.

Michael soaked up the sight of him greedily. Guiltily.

Alex was alive.

 

* * * *

 

Michael was alive.

Alex hadn’t really thought otherwise, but the fear had been there. He pushed down all the emotions that threated to boil up at the sight of him. He couldn’t look at Michael as _Michael_ right now. It was too confusing, too painful. No time for that now.

“Doctors are locked in the lab, but they won’t stay that way for long.”

He put his hand on the biometric scanner by the door. Like he’d suspected, no one had bothered to wipe his profile from the database. Why would they? They’d known exactly where he was.

The door opened and pure, clean sunlight poured in.

“Let’s move,” he said.

“I’m calling our ride,” Kyle said, his phone at his ear. There was worry in his eyes that Alex knew was directed towards him, but that could wait.

“Hang on,” Michael said. “We can’t just leave!”

Damn it. Alex had really been hoping to avoid this.

“Guerin.”

“We have to destroy the research! And Dr. Bates? Your father? They’ll just keep coming after us if we don’t stop them! No way in hell am I leaving this place standing.”

“We’ll lose,” Alex said bluntly. “If we try to do that now, we’re all going to die. You and I can barely walk. Isobel can’t stand. Liz and Kyle didn’t come prepared for an assault, they came for a rescue.”

“Ride’s here,” Kyle said. “We have to go now.”

“We’ll come back and finish it,” Alex said. “I promise.”

Distantly, Alex wasn’t sure what he would do if Michael didn’t believe him. If, after all this, Michael still didn’t trust him, then what had been the point?

“Okay,” Michael said finally. “Okay, Alex.”

When Alex walked out the door, Michael followed him.

There was a black Hummer idling in front of the door. The driver’s window rolled down and Maria DeLuca waved at them. “Get in, losers!”

Behind him, Isobel laughed.

“You brought Maria into this?” Alex asked.

“We needed a getaway driver,” Liz said, sounding guilty.

“And Maria brought herself,” Maria added, looking over her shoulder as they scrambled in.

Sirens sounded, a long wail that made them all jump. The aliens huddled together in the backseat. Kyle and Liz had Alex sandwiched between them in the middle.

 Maria gunned the engine and the vehicle sped forward.

Alex saw his father burst out of the prison, gun raised. “Get down!”

Everyone ducked as a bullet shattered the back window.

Maria smashed right through the closed gate. She pulled onto the highway and floored it, and soon Caulfield was lost in the distance.

“Everyone alright?” Kyle asked.

“Fine,” Max reported. He and his siblings were brushing glass from each other’s hair and clothing.

Liz turned around to look at him. “Hi, I’m Liz. Ortecho. It’s really nice to meet you all. In person, that is, I’ve already met Michael on the phone. Hi, Michael.”

Max looked a little stunned. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Hey there, phone girl,” Michael said.

“Hello to all the aliens in the backseat,” Maria called from the front. “I’m Maria and I’ll be your chauffer for the duration of this rescue.”

Isobel laughed again. Without thinking, Alex glanced at Michael to share a moment of bewilderment. Michael shrugged expressively.

Then, Alex remembered that he wasn’t thinking about Michael and turned away.

Michael and his siblings drew together for a private conference, murmuring secret words for their ears only.

Kyle turned to Alex with an assessing look in his eye. It was detached and clinical, like a doctor. “What’s your pain level?”

Even though he knew it was well-intentioned, Alex’s body tensed. “Kyle,” Alex gritted out, “if you’re going to ask those kind of questions, you need to take off that goddamn lab coat.”

Kyle’s eyes got wide. “Shit.” He stripped the thing off and flung it into the front seat. On Alex’s other side, Liz fumbled with hers and tossed it after Kyle’s.

“You should have seen him, guys, he was amazing.” Liz was still talking very fast. Probably mild shock. “He took care of those doctors like they were nothing.”

“You snuck in and untied me,” Alex said. “Nice work.”

“Thanks.” She smiled shakily at him. “I’m really glad you’re not dead. You weren’t answering our texts and you missed the rendezvous. Alex, we were so worried. And then I got there and you were strapped to that table and I thought. I really thought---”

“Liz, it’s okay.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Maria demanded, catching his eye in the rearview mirror.

Liz nodded, rubbing hard at her eyes.

“We need you around and kicking,” Kyle said. “It’s not a group chat with only two people.”

Alex could feel all the emotions he’d been putting on hold begin to seep into his mind. He took a deep breath and fought them back. Keep it together, Manes, this was still a mission.

“Where are we headed?” he asked, to give his brain something else to think about.

“My mom and I have a cabin up in the mountains,” Maria said. “We’re going there.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I didn’t know your family was part of a government alien conspiracy, so we all have secrets, don’t we?”

“Ah. Right.”

“Don’t worry about it. I spent two days thinking you were dead, so you have a free pass for at least a week.”

Kyle had not forgotten he was a doctor. “Seriously. Pain level?”

“Six or seven.”

“So, an eight,” Kyle translated. “We’ll get you fixed up at the cabin.” He rested the back of his hand against Alex’s forehead and then pulled off the long-sleeved outer shirt he was wearing. He handed it over. “You’re freezing.”

The shirt was soft. It felt like armor when he put it on, but Alex was trying to keep himself together and he didn’t want to think about why. Instead, he made a show out of looking down at himself. “Who are you wearing these tight shirts for?”

“Anyone who will have me,” Kyle said with a grin.

“We’ve both already had you,” Liz said ruthlessly.

Kyle clutched his chest. “Oh my god am I having a heart attack? Is this what death feels like?”

“Honey, you’re much too pretty to die,” Maria comforted.

The voices of his family wrapped around him. Alex sank into the warmth of them and, for a moment, he allowed himself to feel safe.

 

* * * *

 

Michael had forgotten how big the sky was. It was almost frightening, watching it stretch out above them with no limit. He was glad they were driving. At least the roof put some boundaries on the world.

His siblings were the other boundaries. They hadn’t let go of one another since they’d been freed, all of them feeling the same desperation. Max and Michael pressed Isobel between them, Max’s arm around Michael’s shoulder, Michael’s hand clutching Max’s shirt.

Alex was with his friends in the front seat, ignoring him. It shouldn’t have felt like a relief, but it did.

Plus, adding their chatter to the wind of the blown-out window gave them the perfect cover to talk without the humans overhearing.

“This is real, right?” Isobel asked quietly.

“As far as I can tell,” Max said.

“It’s real,” Michael said.

“What are they going to do with us?”

“Alex said they were going to give us new identities,” Michael said, remembering their conversation with Liz.

They absorbed the implications of that together.

“They’re going to let us go?” Max asked. “Just like that?”

“They can’t stop us,” Isobel reminded them. “We have our powers back.”

“I couldn’t float a toothpick right now.”  

“I could do my thing,” Max said, sinking his voice low. “If we needed it.”

“We won’t. Alex won’t let them hurt us.”

“Michael,” Max said, with more care than Max usually attempted, “I know you like him, but after what happened are you sure he’s still going to---”

“I trust him, Max.”

Michael let the words settle between them. He let himself feel the truth of them. He held them in his hands and pressed them into his skin so that he would never, ever forget.

“I trust him,” he repeated. “Even if he hates me now, he’ll keep his word.”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Isobel said.

“He should.”

Isobel and Max didn’t disagree, and he was grateful for it. He honestly couldn’t take another person telling him what he had done was fine. Alex had already been one too many.

“So we stick with the humans for now,” Max said.

“For now,” Isobel agreed.

They stayed close until the drive was over. The cabin was perfect, as far as Michael could tell. It was set away from the road, only a long, dusty track leading them where they needed to go. It was made of a light-colored wood with enough room to comfortably house the seven of them.

Alex gave him one of his polite smiles as they walked up to the porch. “Kyle’s going to look you over, if that’s okay with you. Then I think we should get some rest before we do anything else.”

“Okay, but after that, can we talk?” Michael blurted out. “Somewhere private?”

“Guerin,” Alex said, so patiently. “I’ve told you, we really don’t have anything to talk about.”

And then he walked into the house.

Liz had her arms crossed, watching. “What was that all about?”

“I need you to talk to him,” Michael said. He was feeling wild from the smell of fresh air in his nose and no handcuffs on his wrists and the huge sky endless above him.

And Alex. Always, always Alex.

“You’re his friend, right?” he continued. “Get him to tell you what happened in there.”

“Why?” she asked. “What happened?”

“It was bad.” Michael corrected himself, because this lady had literally rescued him. “I hurt him, I know I did, but he keeps saying it’s fine and I don’t know what to do!”

“Woah, hey, calm down.” Liz had a kind voice. “You’ve been through a lot. Let us take care of Alex. What do you need?”

“I need him to talk to me.”

“Mikey,” Liz said, with a bit of exasperated humor, “what do you need _apart from Alex_?”

“Well first of all, I need you to never call me Mikey again.”

“Fun-sucker. Fine, what else?”

Michael didn’t think anyone, in his entire life, had ever asked him that question. Liz Ortecho, ladies and gentlemen. “I’m starving. Literally, I think. And I should probably sleep.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but I think we can manage those basic physical necessities.”

He liked her. He didn’t trust her, but he liked her. “Such hospitality.”

She led the way inside, where Maria DeLuca became his third favorite human by putting a bowl of chicken soup in front of him and his siblings.

“Slowly,” she warned.

He did not obey her.

He didn’t obey Kyle Valenti either when the guy asked if he could do a medical exam. “Fuck off,” he said, mostly just to see what would happen.

Kyle fucked off. He descended on Alex instead, who accepted his fussing with stoicism. Eventually, Kyle coaxed him into one of the first-floor bedrooms and Liz went after them with a nod to Michael.

Michael was so tired that the world was swaying.

“Let’s get all three of you to bed,” Maria said softly. She led the way to a bright room with a bed bigger than anything Michael could remember seeing. She shut the door gently when she left the room.

He, Isobel, and Max all looked at one another.

“For now,” Isobel finally said.

“Yeah,” Max said. “Just for now.”

 

 

* * * *

 

The best thing about family was also the worst thing about family. They knew you.

Alex had forgotten that until he realized Liz and Kyle had gotten him alone with painkillers, water, and looks of loving concern.

Oh boy.

He opened his mouth, but Kyle said, calmly, “If you say you’re fine one more time, I’ll tell Liz about the worms.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’m living dangerously today. I might.”

Alex gave him a considering look and decided Kyle had manned up a bit since he’d last seen him. “It’s been a long few days,” he said grudgingly.

“You have a fractured rib, more bruises than I care to count, and you’re limping on your prosthetic. I’d say so.”

“You fixed me up already. Those were the good meds.”

“Tell us what happened,” Liz said. “Michael said it was bad.”

“Michael is too hard on himself. I’m fine.”

“Alex thought worms hatched out of eggs and turned into birds,” Kyle said promptly.

Alex glared at him.

Kyle did not look sorry. “Warned you.”

“Michael said he did something to you.” Liz was incapable of letting things go, especially when it was about people she cared about.

The dam he’d built for his emotions rumbled ominously.

A proper Manes man would bury them until the mission was over. And when the mission was done, there was always the next mission, and the next.

Alex didn’t want to be that kind of a man. He wanted to be the sort of man his family could be proud of.

He sank down onto the mattress of Maria’s soft bed and told them as much as he could.

The two of them ended up on the foot of the bed, looking at him. Liz had that fire in her eyes again. Kyle had his doctor face.

Eventually, Alex realized he had stopped telling the story and had descended into babbling.

“It’s not about what happened afterwards. It’s just that the first time that was a little---but I get why he did it. It’s completely understandable. It’s not his fault, so how could I be angry? And I’m not, I’m just,” he groped for words that would not come. “He said he didn’t trust me. He told me that over and over, and I still chose not to give him the serum. I knew the risks. Michael never lied to me.”

“You never lied to him either,” Liz finally interjected.

“He had no way of knowing that. From his perspective, marking me was the only logical choice. Objectively, it was the right move.”

“Alex,” Kyle said, very quietly, “why are you trying so hard to make this okay?”

“I’m not!”

Liz and Kyle gave each other a look laden with communication. For a second, Alex was reminded of Max and Isobel.

“Can I say something without you freaking out?” Liz said.

“I’m not freaking out!”

“You are literally shouting.”

“I---” Alex lowered his voice. He hadn’t realized how loud it was. He took a long, deep breath, the kind his counselor at the VA had taught him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Liz looked a little nervous. It made Alex shrink inside. Even when he was trying as hard as he could, the Manes family curse found its way out.

“Sorry,” he said again. “Of course you can say something. Say whatever you want.”

Liz looked at Kyle again, who nodded. She said, “Look, do you remember when we were in sixth grade? We had that sports day and you rolled up your sleeves?”

“You guys saw the bruises. I remember.”

“Do you remember the week after? You spent days explaining why it wasn’t bad that your dad hit you.”

No. He didn’t remember that.

Kyle said, “You had all these reasons. All these explanations. And man, it sounded a lot like this conversation.”

“Michael is not my father,” he snarled, because how dare they? How _dare_ they imply that Michael was anything like that monster?

“We know that,” Liz said steadily. “We’re just not sure that you do.”

Her words reached out and grabbed Alex by the throat.

“You’re treating Michael like he’s going to punish you for calling him out,” Kyle said. “But from what you’ve told us, you don’t actually think he will.”

“He doesn’t want your compliance,” Liz said. “He wants your forgiveness. But first you’ve got to admit he did something you need to forgive.”

Alex stared at them, filling with slow, terrible recognition.

Kyle said, “It’s a perfectly understandable reaction---”

“I need a break.” Alex pushed himself up off the bed. “You’re right. I just. I need a break.”

“Sure, man.”

“Whatever you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

Alex turned away from them and fled.

 

 

 

He walked out into the desert. The sun was setting, painting the rocks red and orange. There was a nip in the air.

He walked until the flood of emotions had slowed to a trickle. Then he chose a large boulder and leaned against it, waiting.

Alex wasn’t sure how he knew what he was waiting for, but he did. Eventually, as the sun turned to a soft gold, Michael came into view, walking towards him as he was always going to do. Michael Guerin was inevitable. He was the destination to which all of Alex’s roads led.

“I felt you out here,” Michael called out. “Real dramatic.”

He looked refreshed, like he’d actually managed to sleep. Alex watched him draw closer with exhausted acceptance. He was cracked open, all his facades in pieces, nothing left but the truth.

“I need to say something.”

Michael looked serious now. “I thought you might.”

“It’s hard for me.”

“Just say it,” Michael said, his voice bordering on pleading. “Say what you want to say.”

Michael was not Jesse Manes.

“You should have asked,” Alex said roughly. “The first time, in my room. You should have asked me.”

“I know. You’re right.”

“I had everything under control and you fucked it up! You fucked _me_ up!”

Michael had tears in his eyes now. “I’m so sorry.”

“Goddamn right you should be sorry!”

“I am,” Michael said fervently.

Alex’s voice dropped to a dangerous register. “If you ever mark me without my consent, you will never see me again. Is that clear?”

“Very clear. Fucking crystal.”

“Good. Then I forgive you.”

The hope on Michael’s face almost hurt to look at. “You do?”

“Yes. I understand your reasons, probably more than most.”

“You’re sure forgiving me is a good idea?”

 “Are you going to do it again?”

“No,” Michael swore.

“Then I’m sure.”

“ _Alex_ ,” Michael breathed, reaching for him.

Alex flinched away from him. He couldn’t help it. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, ready for his father’s retribution.

“What is it?”

“It’s not you, it’s just. Ugh!” Alex rubbed his face, trying to scrub the Manes out of him.

“You know, back in Caulfield you gave me exactly what I needed.” Michael was looking at him with so much…so _much_. It was making Alex feel dizzy. “Let me return the favor?”

“I don’t know what I need.”

“Yeah, you do,” Michael said, his accent drawing out the words. Alex’s forgiveness had given him back that cocky confidence. “You’re just shit at admitting it. C’mon, you’ve already done it once today.”

Damn, if this man didn’t get under his skin. Alex glared at him, heat rising in his face.

“Just open your mouth and say it,” Michael said, his tone making it a dare. “What do you need, Alex?”

“I need you not to _hit me_ , okay?” Alex snapped.

Michael lost his teasing look.

“After what I just said, I need you to not break my arm or choke me out against a wall. I need you to not pull me around my hair.”

Michael held very still. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Can I touch you?”

Alex literally could not relax his body. “I don’t know. You can try.”

Michael approached him slowly. When Alex didn’t move, he put a hand on Alex’s shoulder and trailed it slowly down to his wrist. “I’m not going to break your arm.” His fingertips brushed Alex’s throat. “Or choke you.”

Alex drew a careful breath.

Michael moved closer and rested his forehead against Alex’s. They breathed together. “No matter how mad you get me, I won’t hurt you,” Michael told him, an echo of Alex’s own promise from Caulfield. He slid gentle hands through Alex’s hair. “And I’ll never, ever pull your hair.”

Alex kissed him.

It wasn’t like any kiss they’d shared before. It was unhurried and easy, sweetness without a drop of bitter. It was a long exhale. A homecoming. When it was done, they held each other just for the pleasure of it.

“You gotta know I trust you,” Michael said, the words warm against Alex’s skin.

“I trust you too. So much.”

Michael’s smile was infectious and beautiful. “You rescued me.”

“Pretty sure that was Kyle and Liz.”

“Nah, they’re just the ones who got me out.”

And what was Alex supposed to do with that other than kiss him again? This time there was nothing unhurried about it.

But it was just as sweet.

 

* * * *

 

It was dark by the time they made it back to the cabin, and Michael had been so thoroughly kissed that he felt drunk with it. He missed the first step on the porch and cursed. Alex had a smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. That bastard. It was his fault.

Michael turned around and kissed that smug smile right off his face.

Every time Michael kissed Alex, he believed in his freedom a little bit more.

Alex kissed him hard, then pulled back. “Our families are in there,” he said, nodding to the cabin. Warm light poured out from the windows.

“Is that a problem?” Michael asked.

“No,” Alex said immediately. “But I think I’d like to win over Max and Isobel a little more before they catch me making out with their brother.”

“You’ve already won them over,” Michael said, giddy at the implications of what Alex was saying. “They didn’t kill Valenti because he was your friend.”

“Not as comforting as you think, but thanks.”

The main room of the cabin was cozy and warm. Valenti was tending a tidy blaze in the fireplace. Cheerful music was playing from Liz’s phone. She and Max poured over it, deep in conversation. On the couch, Maria and Isobel were painting their nails.

Everyone looked up when they walked in, and Michael had to fight the urge to step in front of Alex to shield him. No one here wanted to hurt them.

Max gave Michael a knowing look. Isobel rolled her eyes. “Told you he didn’t hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Alright over there?” Liz asked.

“Definitely,” Alex said. “Thanks.”

Isobel kept one hand spread wide to keep the polish safe, but she snagged a plastic bottle and shook it in Michael’s direction. “Look what I found.”

“Aw, no way!”

Isobel tossed it to him. “It’s the good stuff, too.”

“Is that,” Alex began.

“Alien thing,” Maria said.

Michael uncapped the nail polish remover and took a good swing. It was crisp and cool on his tongue. He could feel it ease the aches in his muscles.

“I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth,” Alex muttered.

“That’s what you say now.”

“Alex!” Maria called. “I’ve got a nice dark green here for you.”

“Oh,” Alex said, with a glance at Michael. “Um.”

The thought of Alex with painted nails was honestly a little more than Michael’s kiss-addled brain could process.

Whatever was on his face brought back that satisfied smile to the corner of Alex’s mouth. “Sounds good,” he said.

Alex sat on the couch next to Maria, and Michael made himself comfortable on the floor, sprawled out and leaning back against his legs.

Valenti nodded at the two of them. “That’s how it is?”

Alex raised his eyebrows, a silent challenge.

“Hey, it’s cool. I respect your choices.”

Michael sprawled a little more pointedly. If his head ended up in Alex’s lap while he made eye contact, only he and Valenti needed to know.

Alex ran a hand through his curls and then nudged him away. “I don’t want to get nail polish on your face. I’m not very good at this.”

“He really isn’t,” Maria confided.

Michael grinned. “Alex Manes, golden boy? Not good at something? This I gotta see.”

Liz cackled from her chair. “I’m so glad we broke you out of prison.”

“Back atcha. What are we listening to?”

“Liz is catching me up on the songs we missed,” Max said, a little too earnestly. “Did you know Taylor Swift got good?”

“And then bad again,” Valenti said sadly.

“Uh huh,” Michael said, looking from Max to Liz. “Well, we all know your well-documented love of popular music, Max. Good thing Liz is helping out.”

Max went a little pink. Brother-tormenting abilities? Intact.

“Is there a guitar here?” Isobel asked.

“Yeah,” Maria said, “do you play?”  

“Michael does.”

“Not for ten years,” he protested.

But Liz had already stopped her music and ran off somewhere. She returned triumphantly with an old acoustic and dropped it in Michael’s lap. “Entertain us.”

Michael was aware of Alex’s gaze on him as he ran his fingers over the strings. He plucked them softly and started to tune.

The world faded a bit after that.

Music had always made him quiet, in a way not even Alex or his siblings could match. The ability to create beauty out of thin air, to let his fingers express whatever he was feeling, that was where Michael was happiest.

He played until his fingers ached and then kept on playing. Valenti went to bed, and then Max and Maria. Isobel and Liz stayed while the fire burned down to embers. And of course, Alex never moved. Michael had been pressed against his knees this entire time.

Eventually, he let the music fade into silence. Liz stretched and yawned. “That was nice,” she said sleepily. “I’m going to bed. You coming?”

That was to Alex.

“In a bit,” Alex’s voice said behind him.

Isobel reached down and kissed the top of Michael’s head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Iz.”

“Don’t stay up all night.”

“Yes, mother.”

When they left, the room settled into silence again.

From behind him, Michael heard shuffling and the click of plastic. The tempting scent of acetone filled the air and made him turn around.

Alex was scrubbing his fingers with a cotton ball of nail polish remover. He carefully avoided his newly painted nails. The sight of those long, perfect fingers mingled with that sharp scent made Michael’s mouth water.

He cleared his throat. “You weren’t kidding about being bad at that.”

Alex frowned down at his hands. “I hate when it’s not neat.”

It was such an Alex thing to say.

Fuck, he was rubbing acetone all over his fingers. One, then another, then another.

“Here,” Michael said, “let me.”

He plucked the cotton from Alex’s hand and finished the job, wiping both hands clean. Then, he lifted Alex’s hands to his mouth and licked the acetone off one finger, then another, then another…

“God,” Alex groaned.

Michael hummed in agreement.

“You really do have a thing for hands.”

“You,” Michael said, looking up at Alex’s flushed face. “I have a thing for you.”

Alex’s eyes widened. He tugged and Michael got to his knees, opening his mouth for the hot slide of Alex’s tongue. Michael pressed between Alex’s legs and Alex drew him in closer, closer. Michael could never be close enough.

When they broke apart, Alex, said, “Sleep with me tonight.”

Michael inhaled his own spit so fast he choked. He pulled back from Alex, coughing.

Alex started laughing, because Alex was a bit of an asshole.

“What?” Michael eventually wheezed.

“Sleep,” Alex emphasized, smirking that self-satisfied smirk. “ _Sleep_ with me.”

“You mean like, PJs and counting sheep, no adult rating necessary?”

“That’s what I mean.” Alex ran a hand through Michael’s hair. He seemed to like doing that. “I don’t think I’m ready for the adult rating quite yet.”

Michael definitely wasn’t. Sex was a whole other mess of landmines he was not ready to deal with. He wasn’t sure when he was going to be ready---maybe not for a long time.

“I just want you with me,” Alex said, with something that might have been shyness if someone as badass as Alex Manes could ever be considered shy.

“Yeah,” Michael said. “Yes.”

Tomorrow, they were going to make a plan to go back to Caulfield. They would face Alex’s demon and Michael’s nightmare.

But right now, they were just this: two people slipping into clean clothes and warm sheets, holding on as tightly as they could.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the post-rescue chicken soup of my soul. THANK YOU.  
> And to all my h/c lovers, never you fear. The pain shall return....


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this took forever!! This was super hard to write, y'all. And you'll notice that I have YET AGAIN added another chapter because, well, I wanted to write them being happy a little bit. One more to go!
> 
> Quick note: there's a depiction of a panic attack at the beginning of this chapter. Also, for those who commented wondering how Max and Isobel were dealing with the rescue....this is for you (luv u thank u).

 

 

Michael woke up in bed with Wyatt Long.

The worst part wasn’t the dark or the certainty that something truly awful had happened to him in this bed. It was that he had been asleep to begin with. He had let down his guard with this man who---

Michael flung himself out of the bed, unable to hold back a sound of distress. He’d be punished for it, punished for leaving, but he was desperate to get away from all that skin and heat.

He hit the floor hard and scrambled until he had his back to a wall.

“Michael?”

A light blinded him and he put his hands over his eyes.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s me, you’re okay.”

It was Alex’s voice, but Alex was going to strap him down and watch while they tortured him. No, that wasn’t right, Alex hated him. Wait, no, that wasn’t…

“Oh my god, Michael!” Isobel’s warm hands closed over his wrists, pulling his hands away from his eyes. He blinked in the light and her worried face swam into focus. Max stood behind her.

All the events of yesterday came flooding back. Wyatt Long wasn’t here.

Michael collapsed against the wall, gasping for air. “ _Fuck_.”

“What did you do to him?” Max said loudly.

“Nothing,” Alex said. “Michael, you’re alright.”

Isobel whipped her head around. “Stay back!”

“What the hell is going on?” said someone else.

“Is he okay?”

“Leave him alone!”

Max was too loud. Isobel was too close and holding him too tight.

He couldn’t get enough air.

His eyes darted around the chaos of the room and settled on the one motionless thing: Alex, poised at the edge of the bed, staring steadily at him.

“You’re in Maria’s cabin,” Alex said calmly. “You and I were sharing a bed. Right now Isobel is holding your hands. You’re safe.” Alex’s voice got a little sharper. “Isobel, give him some space.”

When she let him go and leaned back, Michael finally got a good breath. And then another.

“Good,” Alex told him. “Don’t look away from me. Looking at me is pretty great, right?”

Michael gasped out a shaky laugh. “Smug.”

Alex smiled. “Dramatic.”

“Gotta keep. You on your. Toes.”

“And you’re doing a great job with that. How about you focus on breathing instead of insulting me?”

“Can do both,” Michael panted.

“Sure, sure, but how about you don’t? We’re good here, guys,” Alex said, never breaking eye contact with Michael. “All the humans, clear out.”

Fuck, how many people were watching this? Michael’s air went thin again.

“Woah now, deep breaths.”

Michael didn’t want people to see this. He was so fucking tired of being broken while strangers watched.

“Michael.” The panic in Isobel’s voice sent him spiraling, because he hated to hear his sister afraid. “Alex! Max, let him past, can’t you see he’s helping?”

Alex went from the bed to the floor in a movement that looked effortless but definitely wasn’t, briefly using Isobel’s shoulder to steady himself on the way down. He sat close but not too close. “Hey, you were doing so good. I was getting your medal ready and everything. Breathe with me.”

Michael’s body obeyed Alex Manes. It was just how it was, okay? A fact of the fucking universe.

He breathed.

It earned him another smile. “That’s it. I breathe, you breathe. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Michael reached for him. Alex scooted closer and offered his hands, palm up. Michael focused on Alex’s fingers, curling and uncurling them, rubbing the dark green nails. He didn’t know how he could have ever mistaken them for Wyatt’s hands.

He breathed when Alex did, and the world slowly steadied.

Alex wiggled his fingers. “Fixated.”

“You like it.”

Max made a sound in the back of his throat.

Michael risked a look up from Alex’s hands. Max knelt a few feet away, leaning desperately towards him. Isobel sat beside him, her hand on his arm probably the only thing keeping him back.

“Michael, move away from him.” Max sounded like he was trying to coax him off a ledge.

Michael followed Max’s gaze to their entwined hands. “It’s Alex,” he said, because his only thought was that maybe Max had somehow gotten caught in the same nightmare.

“You don’t have to do this anymore,” Max proclaimed earnestly. “We can leave right now. You don’t have to trade yourself to get what you want.”

Oh, no fucking way.

Alex’s fingers clenched around his. “Careful, Evans.”

Michael felt like the room had narrowed to just him and Max. “Get what I _want_?” he repeated.

Max ignored him in favor of shooting accusations at Alex.  “He couldn’t breathe! Don’t pretend you had nothing to do with that. He thinks he owes you for getting us out of Caulfield and you just, what? Let it happen?”

Alex dropped Michael’s hands to make his signature _calm down_ gesture. “We were just sleeping. Let’s not do this right now, okay?”

“You’re taking advantage of my brother!”

Michael could feel himself getting angry as if it was happening to someone else. He knew Max didn’t mean it. He knew his response was about to be disproportionate. But the ghost of Wyatt lingered behind his eyelids and he couldn’t help it. Auto-pilot engaged. Self-destruct activated.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“Michael,” Alex said, repressively.

“I saw what you had to do in Caulfield.”

“Max…” Isobel said.

“Right, my plan to get what I wanted.” Michael made the words as awful as he knew how. “Gosh, if it was that easy, I’m surprised you didn’t choose to fuck the guards too. I did, because why the hell not? That totally sounds like something I would come up with. But of course you didn’t do that, not the great Max Evans! So moral and so righteous---”

“ _Guerin_.”

Michael rounded on Alex. He wanted to stop, but he was unable to control the venom pouring out of him. “Did you know I was such a mastermind? Apparently I’m a prison whore _and_ a---“

“Stop,” Alex commanded. “Stop talking.”

Michael stopped.

It was a relief.

Max was staring at him in horror. Isobel had her hands pressed to her mouth.

Alex looked distinctly unimpressed. “You’re supposed to be breathing.”

“Did you hear what he---”

“Yes, he’s being an idiot. Just tell him that, don’t do what you’re doing.”

“You’re a fucking _idiot_ ,” Michael snarled at Max.

“I know you didn’t choose any of it. I didn’t mean it like that.” Max had tears in his eyes, and it put a dent in his anger. He’d seen enough of his brother’s tears to last a lifetime.

Alex took a deep, purposeful breath. Michael automatically breathed with him, though he gave him a side-eye to show that he knew exactly what the guy was doing. Alex raised his eyebrow, daring a comment.

Michael did not dare. Instead, he finished his breath and turned back to Max. “Fine. Then what did you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Max said miserably. “You were so scared that it woke us out of a dead sleep. When we found you, Manes was with you and I don’t _know!_ I don’t know what I’m doing, Michael!”

Finally, it occurred to him that Max was absolutely fucking terrified. Max’s entire world had been violently upended, where Michael’s had been in a gradual shift helped along by a psychic bond. Max couldn’t cling to his trust in Alex Manes to get himself through this.

Isobel put an arm around Max’s shoulders and gave Michael a pleading look. He didn’t need it, really. Alex had been right, he didn’t want to fight with Max.

Max put his head in his hands. “I just want you to be safe. All I’ve ever wanted was to keep you both safe.”

“I know you do.” His anger had cooled just as fast as it had come, leaving him exhausted in its wake.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Michael tried for a smile. “At least those ten years haven’t totally changed us. We still fight like we used to.”

“I could do without the fighting,” Isobel said. She was tense.  

“Max, it’s okay that you don’t know what to do,” Michael said. “None of us do. You don’t need to protect us.”

“I want to,” Max insisted.

“You know,” Alex spoke up, “that’s something you and I have in common. Maybe we could work together.”

Max looked at him for a long time. “Maybe,” he said eventually. He glanced at Michael. “He really didn’t do anything?”

“Nah. That was a Michael Guerin nightmare special. It happens sometimes.”

“I know,” Isobel said. “I used to see it.”

“I didn’t,” Max said, pained.

“Welcome to the show.” Michael waggled a hand in the air. “Ta-da.”

“It’s really not funny.”

Max had never appreciated his sense of humor. Michael was surrounded by philistines.

“So now that’s over with,” Alex said, because Alex was the best human in the world, “sleep or coffee?”

“Holy shit,” Michael said. “I forgot about coffee.”

“I spent ten years wishing I could forget about coffee.” Max’s attempt to lighten the mood was awkward, but Michael appreciated it all the same.  

“We’re doing that,” he decided. He got to his feet and realized that Alex was on the floor without his prosthetic. He was in the same kind of sweatpants Michael was wearing, so at least he had some privacy, but Michael knew he wouldn’t exactly relish the process of getting ready in front of Max and Isobel.

“We’ll meet you in the kitchen,” he said, shooing them out the door. “Ten minutes.”

They left slowly, but they did leave. The fact that Max closed the door behind him felt like an apology.

Michael was still a little shaky on his feet, but not so bad that he couldn’t walk over to the side of the bed and grab Alex’s leg, sock, and liner for him. He offered them. “It was pretty inconsiderate of you not to lose an arm instead. I could be making helping hand jokes.”

“You could always say you’re giving me a leg up.”

“Dammit.”

Alex smiled. See? Michael’s sense of humor was awesome.

He waited for Alex to ask questions, but Alex just put on his prosthetic in silence. He didn’t seem upset or freaked out, just quiet. When he was back on his feet, he didn’t move. He toyed with the cuffs of that long-sleeved shirt Valenti had given him and waited.

His silence cleared the space Michael needed. “I thought you were Wyatt.”

Alex tipped his head towards him, listening.

“That’s all. No big story. Just got confused for a few seconds and thought I’d curled up with the fucker.”

Alex nodded.

Michael bit his lip hard. “Back in Caulfield, it wasn’t some kind of seduction plan, okay? They did it to me and then I tried to make the best of it.”

“I believe you. Did I push you into anything?” Alex was looking at him now, faint worry on his face.

“No kid gloves,” Michael said, letting some sharpness into his voice. “I wanted everything we did. I’m just pissed that my screwy brain messed it up.”

“You literally had to convince me that you wouldn’t strangle me, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Michael laughed. “We’re fucked up.”

Alex’s smile was a little sadder than he’d like, but he’d take it. “We sure are.”

“Where’d you learn how to talk someone down like that, anyway?”

“Baghdad. I’d recommend informational pamphlets instead.”

“You’re pretty amazing at it.”

Alex waved the compliment away.

“Seriously, Alex. Thank you.”

“Any time.”

 

* * * *

 

Michael went into the kitchen, but Alex stayed behind in the room for a minute and tried to get his heartrate under control. He felt like he’d just bypassed Russian security code with only a second to spare. His body was pounding with the knowledge that they’d barely escaped mission failure.

When Michael had thrown himself out of their bed, he’d made those sounds---the agonized ones that Alex could not bear.

He knew what he had to do to keep Michael safe. He’d made the plan while he was sitting in that cell in Caulfield. Michael might not like it. Liz, Kyle, and Maria definitely wouldn’t.

But what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It would only hurt Alex, and that was an equation that he considered perfectly balanced.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut and made a decision.

Then he followed Michael into the kitchen where Kyle and Max had made coffee. The accusing eye of the microwave clock read 3:45 AM.

Kyle looked unreasonably perky for someone who’d been dragged out of bed by screaming. “Alex Manes, what are you doing walking around? You have a fractured rib!”

Michael whipped around. “I’m sorry, you have a _what?_ ”

“Thanks for that, doctor big-mouth.”

“Truth hurts, man.”

“Sit,” Michael commanded, pointing to the table. “Think about what you’ve done.”

Alex sat slowly enough that everyone knew it was only because he wanted to. Of course, his ribs really did hurt, so sitting quickly wasn’t really an option.

Max took a tentative seat opposite him. “Busted ribs are the worst.”

Alex didn’t like to talk about his pain, but he knew an olive branch when he saw one. “I have to agree with you there.”

“First few days are the hardest,” Max offered. “Just gotta hold still and wait for it to pass.”

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t have to storm a secret prison anytime soon.”

Max didn’t quite smile, but he almost did. “Lucky you.”

Michael was back from rummaging around the kitchen. He had a bag of frozen tater tots in one hand and a roll of duct tape in the other. “Lift up your shirt.”

“Kyle!”

Kyle set a mug of coffee in front of Alex. “Ice yes, duct tape no.”

Michael looked mutinous. “But---”

“No, Guerin.”

Michael swore to himself while positioning the tater tots directly over the place where Alex’s ribs hurt the most, even though Alex hadn’t shown him where the fracture was.

Liz joined came out of one of the bedrooms and sat next to Max. “They’re okay,” she told him.

“Thank you.”

Alex did a scan of the cabin. “Where’s Isobel?”

Michael glanced up.

“She’s taking a breather,” Liz said calmly. “You guys had quite the conversation and I guess it brought up some stuff. Maria’s with her, catching her up on ten years of fashion.”

Alex could see the anxiety rising in Michael. But before he could think how to head it off, Liz said, “Hey there nurse, why don’t you grab your patient some coffee?”

Michael narrowed his eyes at her. “He already has---”

Liz made eye contact and pulled Alex’s mug across the table towards her. She took an obnoxious sip.

Michael threw up his hands and stomped back to the kitchen, worry spiral forestalled.

“You’re both so good with him,” Max said quietly. “When I try, I always make it worse. How do you know what to do?”

Alex didn’t know what to tell him. He didn’t have the words to explain the connection he had with Michael. If he ever found them, there was only one other person he was going to tell. 

Liz saved him, of course.

“Everyone here has been through something. I lost my sister, Kyle lost his dad. Maria’s mom doesn’t remember her most days. And Alex…well.”

Shame rose in Alex for any number of reasons: his leg, his family, his past.

“We can only begin to understand what you’re going through,” Liz said, “but just know that you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Max stared at Liz with a familiar kind of longing. “I’d like to believe you.”

She smiled at him. “We’ll get there.”

A mug slapped down on the table in front of Alex.

“Drink this.” Michael threw himself onto the chair next to him and pointed menacingly at Liz.

He hadn’t gotten any for himself. Right. Michael and his thing about food.

Alex took a sip, letting the hot drink burst warm and comforting on his tongue. Then he handed it to Michael, because sharing seemed to be a loophole. “Taste?”

The way Michael’s eyelashes fluttered closed when he tasted the first sip? Alex was keeping that forever, no matter what happened to him.

“We should only eat this.”

“Vetoed.” Kyle took the chair on Alex’s other side, two mugs in his hand. He slid one of them over to Alex, because Kyle noticed people and was no longer afraid to show how much he cared about them.

“Aw, fuck you, Valenti.” Michael tried to hand Alex his coffee back, saw he already had a cup, and awkwardly kept it instead.

Alex allowed himself sixty seconds to dream a world where he got to make Michael do the fluttery thing, no coffee required.

Then he focused. He had a job to do and it wasn’t going to be easy.

“Since we’re all awake, do you want to talk plans?”

“Do you have one?” Max asked.

“Yes.”

The group sat up straighter, like he’d tugged on their spines. Alex didn’t want to be the person who took away their easiness. But it needed to be done.

“Oh, I’m so glad we’re doing this at four in the morning,” Liz said.

“We’re going back,” Michael said. It wasn’t a question. 

Alex nodded. “We have to destroy the research and halt all further pursuit. If Isobel’s up for it, we can do it.”

“She’s up for it,” Isobel said. She and Maria walked out of the bedroom. Isobel looked back to her usual self, all cool self-possession.

“We’re going to need backup,” Alex said. “I have people who owe me.”

“You want to get the military involved,” Kyle said.

“Um,” Michael said.

“Want? No.” Alex looked at Michael. “But I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t see another way.”

“We could blow it up,” Michael suggested. “Plan B? Lots of guns?”

“That won’t work.” It was Max who actually spoke up. Alex could see the wrestling match going on between his fear and his logic. “If we want them to stop chasing us, they have to decide there’s nothing worth chasing. They have to shut Caulfield down themselves.”

“But they know you’re literally aliens,” Kyle said.

“People on the outside don’t,” Alex said. “The only people who know are the guards and the doctors. If I wipe the computers…”

“And I wipe their minds,” Isobel said, catching on.

“All the brass will see is a failed military initiative to scrub off the books and forget about. They’re more common than you’d think.”

“They can’t know we were ever there,” Max said.

“They won’t.”

 “I can do it,” Isobel said confidently. “I’ve caught glimpses of the doctors’ minds before. Most of them would be happy to forget about that place.”

“Not everyone,” Michael said darkly. “Not Jesse Manes.”

The key to telling a lie was to make it mostly truth. Alex put every ounce of casual authority he possessed into his voice. “That’s why we’re calling in backup. With the lack of evidence, the brass is going to think he’s crazy. He’ll be looking at a dishonorable discharge for sure.”

No one else had a military background. They didn’t know that a lack of evidence wasn’t going to be enough, and they definitely didn’t know what kind of evidence Alex was planning to provide. Thinking about it made his head feel fuzzy.

Maria was frowning at him.

Alex put all his emotions aside. He addressed the rest of the table. “Let’s get to work.”

So they worked. Liz, Michael, and Max pulled out the Caulfield blueprints, Maria and Isobel talked about psychic approaches on the couch, and Kyle put the finishing touches on their escape plan.

Alex took his phone out into the desert where no one could hear him and cashed in everything he had.

It took him into the morning, long after the sun had risen over his head, sitting, pacing, but always using his Captain voice. When it was done, he clutched his phone in both hands and stared at the red dirt.

The thought of what he’d just set into motion started to worm doubt through his mind. What was he thinking? Why did he think he could handle this?

 He remembered how he’d felt in Caulfield after the first mark, the steadiness of Michael’s confidence in his head. He missed it with an ache so strong that it shocked him.

There was a friendly shout. Maria was waving for him, clearly not planning to walk any further than she already had. “We got it!” she called. “Plan’s set.”

Alex made his way back to her, stuffing his phone in his pocket. He summoned a smile. “Great. I’m done too.”

She put a hand on his arm to stop him from walking towards the cabin. “You want to tell me what’s got you all twisted up in knots?”

“Someday you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”

Maria refused to be distracted. “Something’s off with you. It’s not just nerves. This is more.”

The best lies were mostly truth and Alex really didn’t want to lie to Maria. “The last time my father and I faced off in Caulfield, it didn’t go so well.”

“You’re not alone this time,” Maria said fiercely. She pulled him into a hug, careful of his ribs. “We’re going to be with you.”

Alex was glad she couldn’t see his face. “Right. Yeah, you’re right.”

“He’s going down.”

“I know,” he said truthfully.

 

 

 

He left Maria on the porch and walked in the direction he felt like he should go, not examining the feeling too closely. The cabin had a separate garage in the back, and that’s where he ended up. He found Michael with his legs sticking out from underneath a blue pickup, tools scattered around him.

“That truck broke when we were kids,” Alex said. “I didn’t know they kept it.”

The clanking noises stopped. “Well I’ve completely fixed it.”

“Really?”

Michael pushed himself out from under the truck to squint up at him. “No.”

He had a streak of grease on his cheek and his hands were covered in dirt and oil. Sweat gleamed on his skin, darkening the collar of his t-shirt. His curls were in wild disarray.

Words flew right out of Alex’s head.

Michael sat up, oblivious. “I am so out of practice with this shit. DeLuca said she didn’t mind, so I’m just tinkering around, trying to get some magic back in these fingers.”

Alex stared at the fingers in question and lost a few seconds thinking about the ways they could tinker.

God _damn_ it, he couldn’t do this right now. Not only were they hours away from a mission, but he wasn’t even sure if Michael wanted that kind of attention after last night. He couldn’t stand around ogling Michael just because it melted the cold fear in his stomach.

“---think I could?”

Alex snapped back into the conversation. “Sorry, what was that?”

It clicked for Michael, then. Alex saw him take in Alex’s face and switch gears. His smile turned intentionally wicked. “You seem a little distracted.”

“I’m, um.” He stared while Michael lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, showing the pale, soft skin. “Um. What were you saying?”

“Forget it. See something you want, hmm?”

Michael’s voice was smooth and hot as whiskey on the tongue. He tugged his shirt off over his head as he stood. It was a movement that was sexy and perfect.

It was _practiced_.

Michael glanced at him through those thick, soft eyelashes, deliberate in a way Alex had never seen him.

Last night had reminded Alex to go slowly, to be careful, and what was happening right now didn’t feel quite right. There was a dissonant note, a sour taste.

In the absence of a handprint, he was greedy for as much of Michael as he could get. He wanted to carry Michael with him into battle. But he didn’t want anything that felt like this.

Alex stepped forward to meet him halfway. Instead of kissing him, he cupped a hand around the back of Michael’s head and pressed their foreheads together.

Michael let out a surprised laugh. “Hi?”

“Hi. Tell me what you were saying before.”

“I’ve got something more important to do.”

“You’re important.”

Alex hadn’t realized there was tension in Michael’s body until it melted. The way Michael leaned into his touch resolved the chord, added back the sweetness. “I was asking about a shower,” he said quietly. “I used dream of a long shower with no one pounding on the door.”

Alex pressed a quick kiss to Michael’s forehead and stepped away. He tasted salty and delicious. “There’s no way Maria’s got a cabin without a decent shower. I guarantee it has hot water and everything.”

 Michael looked pleased, but confused. “Should I be feeling rejected right now?”

“You are literally,” Alex said, “the hottest thing I have ever seen. C’mon, let’s find you a towel.”

There was nothing practiced about the smile Michael gave him. It was huge and bright and just for Alex.

It melted that fear inside him just fine.

 

 

* * * *

 

As far as distractions went, DeLuca’s shower was a good one. It was an actual bathtub, not just a metal stall. Michael let the water pour over him, basking in it. He tried all the soaps and shampoos, no matter how flowery they smelled. He loved that they smelled so different from Caulfield antiseptic.

Right. The C-word. Michael had almost managed to forget that in a few hours they were going back to his own personal hell.

Maybe the shower as distraction wasn’t working as well as he’d thought.

Making out with Alex would have been a much better one, but Alex hadn’t been into it. It had almost been a relief, even though Michael had been the one who’d initiated it. The whole thing had been fucking weird. Of course, Alex had given him exactly what he’d needed, like he always did.

There was something off with Alex, though. Michael scrubbed Sunset Breeze conditioner into his hair while he pondered how he knew that. It was just a feeling, really, like _scared_ but different.

Made sense. Michael was scared shitless.

He wished, for a terrible, guilty second, that Alex still had a mark. Just one. Just so he could feel him more clearly. If he could carry a piece of Alex into Caulfield with him, he could face anything that shithole threw at him.

But maybe he had a little piece of Alex already.

Playing a hunch, Michael closed his eyes under the spray and focused on a very specific thought.

A minute later, Alex knocked on the bathroom door. “Michael?”

Well holy shit. “Come in!”

The door opened and Alex’s voice said, “Ah, really?”

“Yes, really. There’s a curtain.”

It was a thick shower curtain, green with flowers. It still felt like nothing when Alex shut the door, closing the two of them in the steamy warmth of the small room.

“I think I called you here with my brain,” Michael said. Because why beat around the bush? Tact was for people who didn’t have to sabotage an alien prison in a few hours.

“Yeah, I think I found you in the shed that way.”

“Huh.”

“It’s vague,” Alex said. His lack of surprise was hilarious and amazing. “Like a shoddy version of a mark.”

“Discount handprint, half off.” Michael ran his hands through the water and sighed. “Must be left over from all the shit before. Sorry, I can try to block it out.”

“No, I found it in the bargain bin myself. I want it.”

There was a quality to Alex’s voice that Michael couldn’t place. He poked his head out of the shower curtain to look at him.

Alex was leaning against the sink, the damp heat of the shower making the ends of his hair curl up a little. He had pink in his cheeks. He looked soft, like he was thinking about something he liked.

“It’ll fade soon anyway.”

The pink turned to red when Alex saw Michael looking. Then, he snorted. “Your _hair_.”

Michael lovingly patted the one giant curl he’d sculpted on top of his head. “Don’t listen to him, baby. You’re beautiful.”

Alex rolled his eyes fondly, and Michael didn’t miss the way they dipped to catch a glimpse of his chest.

He retreated back into the shower and rinsed his hair. He felt that happy, giddy feeling from last night bubble up inside him. He still didn’t have the words for why this felt so different than back in the garage, but it did.

It was helping with the distraction.

When his hair was clean, he asked, “What did you used to do in Iraq before a mission?”

“Oh god, I don’t know.” Alex sounded surprised, either by the fact that Michael remembered what he’d said last night or that he was bringing it up. “Math problems. Messed around with some code. Sudoku.”

“You dork,” Michael said gleefully.

“Watched all of _Gilmore Girls_ ,” Alex admitted.

“Please tell me you’re a Jess fan.”

“Angsty nerd isn’t really my type.”

“Is your type sweaty mechanic?”

Alex’s voice was unflinching when he said, “You, happy and comfortable and doing only what you want to do. That’s my type.”

Michael swallowed around the rush of emotion in his throat. Oh.

“That’s pretty specific.”

“It is.” Alex said it like a secret.

Michael said, “Throw me those clean boxers, will you?”

“Sure?”

The boxers Maria had given him fluttered over the top of the shower curtain. They were grey cotton, soft and good quality. Probably Valenti’s. Michael pulled them on like swim trunks, then he tugged the curtain open wide. “Want to come in?”

Oh yeah, that look on Alex’s face was exactly what Michael had been hoping for. That stunned disbelief really helped a guy’s confidence.

“Just to shower?” Alex said, a little dazed.

“Yes,” Michael said firmly. “And keep your boxers on or no dice.”

“Briefs, actually.”

“Of course you wear briefs.” Michael closed the curtain again, because that crazy giddiness was too much to handle while he looked at Alex.

There was a pause. Then Alex laughed again, not nearly as happy as before. “Damn, Guerin. You just managed to make me forget that one of my legs shouldn’t get wet.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Michael was such an idiot.

He plugged the tub and drew back the curtain. “And when I said shower, I of course meant bath. Are baths good?”

Some of the unhappiness left Alex’s face at the suggestion. “Can we both fit in that bathtub?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret. Getting close to you half-naked is mostly the point of this.”

“I’m shocked.” Alex pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside. “Whatever happened to hygiene?”

 Apparently baths were good. But not as good as getting to see Alex twist out of his jeans and reveal his black briefs. Yeah, that image was sticking around.

He sat on the edge of the tub to remove his prosthetic before lowering himself in. Michael used his powers to give him a boost, but it was still an awkward tangle of limbs and elbows.

It turned out that the tub was, in fact, very small.

“Ouch, maybe you can…”

“Hold still a fucking second.”

Their legs ended up pretzeled together until Michael’s back was jammed up against the faucet. Lukewarm water barely covered their knees. The showerhead battered them relentlessly from above, filling Michael’s nose and eyes.

“This is no longer sexy.”

Alex dropped his head against the tile and laughed.

Michael sucked in his breath at the sight of him, bright and loose and _happy_.

He’d never seen Alex look so happy.

Michael fumbled behind him until the shower shut off. Then he leaned forward to taste the laughter on his lips.

Alex ran his hands down Michael’s back, long smooth swipes that somehow pulled him even closer.

It wasn’t close enough.

Michael got to his knees and pressed him down along the sloped end of the tub. The angle proved too awkward for anything other than Michael looming over him and dropping kisses down on his face.

Alex was starting to laugh again. “Look, do you want to make out or help me get clean, because this tub is only built for one of those things.”

Michael pulled away regretfully. Fucking logic. “Get clean first, make out later.” He looked down at Alex, wet and smiling beneath him. “Let me wash your hair? I promise not to pull.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It really, really is.”

Michael ended up outside the tub, wrapped in a towel and dripping all over the floor. But he got to massage shampoo through Alex’s soft hair, so it was definitely a win.

In face of that, Caulfield felt very far away.

 

* * * *

 

Alex somehow made it out of that bathroom alive. He’d been sure that if a fall on the wet floor didn’t kill him, the sight of Michael in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts would.

Instead, they made it back to the bedroom, both creeping through the quiet cabin in nothing but their boxers and towels. Apparently everyone else had cleverly decided to catch up on sleep.

Alex didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to have however much of Michael that he could get while he could. Michael had thoroughly distracted him before, but the cold walk to the bedroom had brought it all rushing back: the fear and the emptiness in his head where he wanted Michael to be.

What he wanted didn’t matter, though. With what Alex was planning, it would be irresponsible to have Michael mark him, even if Michael was willing. The whole point was for Michael _not_ to get hurt. He’d have to settle for the wisp of connection that remained, though it felt more like a tease than anything else.

He sorted through the clothes Liz had packed from his house and picked a pair of jeans and a white Henley. And a pair of briefs. “Here, these should fit you.”

“Maria said she put some clothes in here for me.” Michael scanned around the room until he saw them on the dresser. “Bingo.”

“Those are Kyle’s.” Alex tossed his clothes at Michael so he was forced to catch them.

“And you’d rather have me in yours, huh?”

Yes. Absolutely. “He’s shorter than you.”

“Hmm.” Michael’s eyes were tracing him, and Alex felt them like fingers on his body.

“I’m going to change,” he managed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Turn around if you don’t want an eyeful.”

He kept the phrasing vague to reestablish what boundaries Michael wanted on this. Sure enough, Michael immediately moved out of Alex’s sightline and turned away. “No peeking.”

Message received, but Alex’s heart ached for him. He pulled on his own jeans and took off his leg. He hesitated long enough over the shirt that he still had it off when Michael said, “You decent?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

Michael came to stand in front of him. He made a big show of looking Alex up and down. “Decent,” he decided.

He was standing there in Alex’s clothes looking like everything he would die to protect.

God, Alex wanted him.

Some of that must have showed on his face, because Michael was on the bed in a flash. Alex pushed himself back against the headboard and Michael settled into the space between his legs. This time, the angle was just right.

Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck and opened for him. Michael was a quick study, and he’d obviously learned that Alex liked it when he used a hint of teeth. He scraped Alex’s bottom lip before nipping his way down to his jaw.

He was too far away.

Alex put his hands around Michael’s face and held him still so that he could push his way into Michael’s mouth. He made it slow and filthy, claiming every inch.

Michael made a low, hungry sound. He curled his fingers around Alex’s wrists, holding him there.

That weak remnant of Michael in Alex’s head gave a pathetic little twitch. The reminder made Alex want to cry.

Michael’s hold on Alex grew desperate. He drew him in closer until the sounds he was making bordered on distress. Alex pulled back, gasping for air. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“You’re not close enough. I can’t get you _close_.” Michael dove in for another kiss, but it was those words that took Alex’s breath away. Michael always had the words he needed.

When they broke apart to breathe, Michael’s forehead was pinched with frustration. Alex tried to offer a solution by plucking at the Henley. “Off?”

“It wouldn’t help.”

Alex knew exactly what Michael meant. They felt like two water glasses clanking sides when they wanted to pour into each other.

Alex pressed his face into Michael’s shoulder and tried to think. Something from before, in the bathroom, finally registered. “You said you could block the connection. Earlier, that’s what you said.”

Michael gave a laugh that was mostly a groan. “Alex, what the fuck?”

A faint hope was growing inside him. “If we had a real mark, could you could block certain feelings from reaching you? Pain?”

“Why are you asking me this _right_ _now_?”

“Could you?”

“I think so.”

A shiver started in Alex’s toes and tingled its way up his spine. If Michael could protect himself, then there was no reason to hide what he wanted.

He pulled away so that he could look Michael in the face. His lips were red and his curls were wild from Alex’s fingers. Alex took one of Michael’s hands and placed it directly over his heart.

Michael went very still. “Alex?” he asked, hushed.

Michael had told him to ask, even if it went against every instinct he had.

“I want this.” Alex could see the denial rising up in Michael’s face, so he tried to find more words. “I know what I have to do in Caulfield, Michael. I don’t want to do it alone.”

Michael put his hands on Alex’s shoulders, grounding him. “I’ll be with you the whole time, mark or no mark.”

“It’s not enough.” Alex twisted his fingers into Michael’s shirt. “I want you closer.”

Michael looked helpless. “Of all the times for you to find your words, Alex, fucking hell.”

Careful, careful, Manes. “Do you not want…?”

“I’m going back to a place that tortured me for ten years and I am fucking terrified. Of course I want to.” One of Michael’s hands brushed Alex’s cheek, so gently. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It felt good.” That stopped Michael in his tracks. “I told you before. The first time felt really good.”

“There’s only going to be one,” Michael promised.

Alex was done with talking. He lay back on the bed and pulled Michael down with him. They ended up on their sides, facing one another. Alex put Michael’s hand back on his chest.

Michael took Alex’s hand and slid it under his shirt. Alex could feel his heart pounding under his fingers.

Michael leaned into a gentle kiss. Alex gave himself up to it, going pliant and boneless under Michael’s touch.

“If you want me, you’ve got me.” Michael pressed the words to Alex’s skin with a delicious hint of teeth.

Alex let out a shuddering breath. This man was making it easier every time to offer up his weaknesses.

“Still good?” Michael asked. Alex stopped a growl of impatience. If this was what Michael needed, Alex would give it to him.

“Yes,” he said. “I trust you, you know.”

Michael shook his head wonderingly. “I know. I know you do.”

“Then _please do it_.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, “yeah, okay.”

The mark wasn’t like anything Alex had experienced before. It was a slow influx of light. It was streams of warmth wrapping him in loose, comfortable arms. It was every smile Michael had ever given him, every time he’d made him laugh.

It was Michael back in his head, finally, finally close enough.

 

* * * *

 

Alex came to life in Michael’s head like being able to breathe again. He filled Michael’s mind with warmth, and this time there was no fear, no pain. It was just _Alex_ and the feeling of being cared for, like he was something precious. Michael let his eyes fall shut and floated in it.

 

* * * *

 

It turned out that Alex could make Michael do the fluttery eyelash thing without coffee after all.

 

* * * *

 

Michael reached out blindly to pull Alex closer, and he felt the echoes of it ripple through both of them. When they kissed, it was an endless feedback loop of pleasure into pleasure into…

 

* * * *

 

…safety. Alex had never felt as safe in his entire life as he did with Michael Guerin inside his head and inside his arms.

That was when he knew.

 

* * * *

 

Michael felt determination grow between them. And he knew that whatever shit Caulfield would throw at them, he and Alex would make it through. They were going to take that place down brick by brick.

 

* * * *

Alex would take Jesse Manes down and keep Michael safe, whatever it took.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are the Sunset Breeze conditioner in my shower. Thank you guys so much for being consistently lovely.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a game I call "spot the canon quotes"! 
> 
> Also, a warning for domestic violence for this chapter bc Jesse Manes, ya know? Take care of your brains, darlings! 
> 
> (That being said, this chapter is dedicated to my fellow abuse kids. Swallow your abusers whole, guys. Swallow. Them. Whole.)

 

 

 

They actually did manage to sleep for a few hours. Michael drifted off into the warmth of Alex’s mind and slept without dreams. He woke up to the excruciating pleasure of Alex rucking up his shirt and kissing his way up his chest.

Michael felt a deep, weighty happiness. Whether it originated from him or Alex, he couldn’t determine and it didn’t matter anyway.

Alex made his way to Michael’s lips but kept the kiss brief. “It’s go time.”

“If this was how you woke your guys for a mission, no wonder they made you a captain.”

Alex was sleep-rumpled, his hair smashed down on one side. He wrinkled his nose, but Michael could feel the affection fizzing between them. “They made me a captain for superior tactical skills and bravery in the field.”

“Whatever you say.”

Alex put on his prosthetic and combed his hair with his fingers. He pulled on a long-sleeved shirt that was the same dark green as his nails. Michael ran his fingers through his curls and was ready. Alex’s clothes on his body felt bulletproof.

When they went out to the kitchen, everyone else was eating sandwiches and coffee. Max and Isobel stood off in the corner together and Michael immediately went to them.

He didn’t ask if they were alright, because obviously none of them were in the face of what they were about to do. Instead, he punched Max in the arm and tugged Isobel’s ponytail, which distracted them from their fear long enough to glare at him. Michael was the best brother.

“You all know the plan,” Alex said. His captain voice cut through the quiet room. It was no-nonsense and brisk. Michael was the only one who could feel the concern that lay behind it. “Be safe and be smart. We can do this.”

“If we do, do we get a cookie?” That was Liz, sandwich in hand.

Maria said, “A bottle of whiskey or I’m out.”

“I thought we got certificates,” Kyle said seriously. “I would very much like a certificate.”

Isobel ducked her head to hide a smile. Michael felt his love for these humans grow in a way that was definitely not coming from him.

“Oh get in the damn car, all of you,” Alex said.

 

 

Caulfield had a service tunnel that led from the basement into the desert, right where a river had cut a gorge into the landscape. Too far away from the cellblock to have been useful during the escape, but very handy for sneaking back in. Michael did not want to think about why the prison needed covert access to a gorge or a quick-flowing river. He wondered if his ashes would have eventually ended up getting tossed here, or if they would have kept those for experiments too.

Alex was sitting in the front passenger seat next to Maria. He had brought a crutch with him. Michael had seen Valenti pull him aside for a quiet conversation about it that had ended with Alex slapping him on the back and swinging himself into the car.

Michael probably should have asked about it, but he didn’t have the capacity at the moment. The closer they got to Caulfield, the more everything inside him shrunk. He could feel himself shutting down those soft, warm parts of himself and going into survival mode.

Max and Isobel sat silently next to him. They were holding hands.

When they reached the entrance of the tunnel, everyone except Maria got out.

“I’ll be waiting. Hey blondie,” she said to Isobel, “see you back here, okay?”

Isobel flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t call me blondie. And sure, fine, I’ll see you.”

Alex had already hooked his computer up to the access port of the door and was doing computer magic. Michael’s dread was a living thing, now. He almost didn’t want Alex to be able to open it.

Alex glanced over at him and Michael’s head was flooded with determination. They could do this, Alex was telling him. Michael believed him.

The light on the keypad flashed green and the door opened. Alex packed his laptop in his backpack and tossed Max a flashlight. “Lead the way, Evans.”

They made a strange procession: Max, Isobel and Liz grouped together up front, Valenti in the middle, and Alex and Michael bringing up the back with flashlights of their own. They walked quickly and quietly.

Alex was in military mode. He moved differently, precise and deliberate. He had strapped the crutch to his backpack for now.

It should have made him feel better, seeing Alex ready to kick some ass. It didn’t. It just reminded Michael that there was a good reason to be afraid.

Suddenly, Michael was thinking about how it had felt to fall asleep wrapped up in Alex, how safe and good it had been. He was filled with those feelings again so unexpectedly that he stumbled over his own feet.

He pointed his flashlight at Alex’s face, accusingly.

Alex’s mouth had a satisfied curve that was unfairly hot. What a little bastard.

Michael bumped his shoulder lightly against his.

 

* * * *

 

It took Alex a few minutes to hack the door on the other side of the tunnel, but he got it in the end. When they emerged into the basement it was dark and empty.

The aliens huddled for a complicated hug, and Alex felt Michael’s terror of being ripped away from them for a brief moment before he got it under control. Sending Michael good emotions was distracting Alex from unpleasant thoughts, so he kept doing it.

Michael untangled himself from his siblings and went over to Alex. “Don’t die.”

Alex kept his hands at his sides because if he reached for Michael he wouldn’t be able to let go. “I won’t if you won’t.”

Michael kissed him fast and hard. Alex felt it sear into his mind.

Then Michael was gone, heading to the labs with Liz and Isobel in tow.

Alex gave himself a mental shake and let determination rise inside him. “Let’s go,” he told Max and Kyle.

 

 

 

The servers were located on ground level. No one stopped them, the prison was still quiet. So far so good.

“There are two entrances to this room,” Alex said. “Kyle, I need you watching the other.”

It was true, but he also needed Kyle out of the way for what was going to happen next.

Kyle was pale, but he nodded and went to stand outside the door. Max stayed with him, his eye on the door they’d entered.

Alex got settled on the floor. It wasn’t hard to crack the encryption, and it was easier to find the data. It was a little harder to find all the backups and double-backups, but Alex rooted them out eventually. He wiped all references to aliens surgically, leaving everything else intact.

“This is going to take a bit to run,” he told Max, “but it will alert you when it’s finished. After that, all you need to do is disconnect the laptop and go. The door to the tunnel is open but it will lock behind you, so be sure you have everyone before you close it.”

Max looked down at him. “You’re saying that like you’re not going to be there.”

“That’s because I’m staying. The higher-ups need evidence that my father has gone off the rails.”

Max nodded, slowly. This was why Alex had designed the teams the way he had, even though it had almost killed him to send Michael back to the labs alone. Out of everyone, Max Evans was the most likely to let him go.

“I need you to get the others out,” Alex said.

“Michael won’t go without you.”

“Make him.”

“If you die, it’s going to break him.” Max was brutally blunt. “I don’t want that to happen.”

“I’m not planning on dying.”

Max had genuine concern in his eyes. “Then what are you planning?”

“I’m going to provide evidence. But it’ll be for nothing if Michael gets caught. You do whatever you need to do. Knock him unconscious and carry him if you have to.”

“He’s going to hate me.” Max looked more disturbed over that than he had during this entire mission. Alex liked him a bit more for it.

He gave Max a wry smile. “Don’t worry, he’s going to be too pissed at me to hate you.”

“I’ll get them all out,” Max said. “I swear.”

It was a weight off Alex’s shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Thank _you_. For whatever you’re going to do, thank you.”

Alex didn’t know how to respond to the honest gratitude in Max’s face, so he focused on taking off his prosthetic instead. It was terrifying, but that wasn’t an emotion he wanted Michael to know about quite yet so he locked it away. “Give me a hand up?”

Max pulled him to his feet and handed him the crutch. “I wondered why you brought that.”

Alex felt---no. He couldn’t think about how he was feeling right now. “Nothing says harmless like a crutch. Take the prosthetic with you, I’m going to want it when I get back.”

Max squeezed his shoulder. The clumsy, well-intentioned affection of the gesture reminded him of his unit. “I’ll see you then.”

Alex took a practice step, getting back into the balance of the crutch.

Then he went to find his father.

 

* * * *

 

“So, next time I vote we do Disneyland.”

“Shh!” Liz hissed.

Michael’s mouth just kept right on moving. “I’m just saying, this is a crap vacation spot. We’ve already been here, first of all.”

“Shut up!” Isobel said. “Do you want them to catch us?”

Michael very emphatically did not want that.

But he also didn’t want to walk into the labs where he’d been tortured for ten years, so.

Alex’s steadiness was the only thing that allowed him to do it.

The doctors were at their work stations, bent over their microscopes and computers. Dr. Bates was the only one who looked up when the three of them walked in. Her eyes grew wide with terror that did Michael’s heart good.

“Hey doc,” he said, and let his powers flood out of him.

He could only hold everyone in the lab immobile for few seconds, but it was enough. Isobel was doing her thing, her face going pale and concentrated. All around the room eyes unfocused and faces grew slack. Michael held onto their bodies as long as he could, but his powers faded out, leaving him shaky and nauseous. How was Isobel doing this? She looked sick but not debilitated. Whatever conversations she’d had with Maria about psychic stuff had clearly paid off.

Liz had already darted to the workstations and was systematically destroying samples. She knew what to look for, which was why they’d brought her. Michael about to start helping when he heard a familiar drawling voice said, “Freeze, all of you.”

Wyatt Long was in the doorway with a gun because of course he fucking was.

Michael couldn’t help it. He froze.

Thanks for nothing, trauma.

Alex exploded inside his head: his anger at Wyatt, his desire to beat the guy to a fucking pulp, his urge to move, move, _move, Michael!_

Michael crashed into Wyatt, sending him stumbling back. They grappled for the gun. Michael felt the other man’s breath in his face.

“B-3,” Wyatt panted, “if you stop now it’ll be easier on you later.”

Michael felt the truth of that lie try to worm into him. Alex shouted at him.

Michael pulled the gun from Wyatt’s hands and threw it aside. He backed away, breathing hard. “Give it up, Long. You’re not the kind of guy to kill someone with your bare hands.”

Wyatt laughed and pulled a syringe from his pocket. “You think we’ve been sitting on our asses? This is the new stuff the docs brewed up. One stick and you can kiss your freaky voodoo goodbye. Though you were never the kissing type. Liked it hard and rough, didn’t you?”

Wyatt lunged, but not at him. He brought the syringe down in a glittering arc directly towards Isobel. She stood unseeing, too caught up in her mind to notice what was happening around her.

Michael pulled whatever scraps of power he had and threw it all at Wyatt. His hand froze in mid-air.

Michael lurched forward right as his control snapped. He caught Wyatt’s wrist in both hands. Wyatt yelled, trying to pull himself out of Michael’s grip. The syringe was caught between their bodies as they fought.

Wyatt’s hands were all over him. He was so close. He smelled like sweat and antiseptic.

Michael didn’t want Wyatt Long to ever touch him again.

He gave a ferocious shove. The syringe pierced Wyatt’s chest.

Michael’s brain pushed the plunger all the way down.

Wyatt stumbled back, eyes wide. “What did you do?” he shrieked. “Oh my god! Is this stuff going to kill me?”

The satisfaction he felt mostly Alex’s. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Liz, bless her, had been working through the entire fight. “Almost done,” she reported. “You good, Michael?”

He watched Wyatt sink down to the ground. Alex was practically purring in his mind. They really should talk about the guy’s homicidal tendencies, except it was ridiculously hot.

“I’m good.”

Isobel surfaced with a gasp. The doctors around her slumped. “I did it,” she breathed. She staggered, and Michael caught her. “They don’t remember us.”

Michael watched Dr. Bates sprawled in her chair, eyes closed. She had smiled at Alex while she’d hurt him. “So we just leave them?”

“We’re the good guys,” Liz said firmly.

“Plus, we are not wasting my hard work,” Isobel said. She looked at Wyatt, who was making unpleasant gurgling noises. “Ugh, let’s go.”

“Don’t you need to mind-whammy him?” Michael asked.

She glanced at him. “Sure,” she said eventually, “hang on.”

Her hesitation told him that she didn’t expect Wyatt Long to be alive long enough to be a threat. She closed her eyes for a few seconds before saying, “Done.”

He didn’t ask whether Isobel had actually done anything to Wyatt’s brain or not. He didn’t want to know whether he was a murderer. It might be cowardly, but he figured he’d been brave enough for one fucking day.

“All your genetic material has been destroyed,” Liz said. “I searched everywhere.”

“The others should be almost done,” Michael said. He needed to get back to Alex. He needed Alex to hold him and tell him that he had done the right thing.

He needed to thank him for getting him through this.

“Let’s go before Jesse Manes gets here,” Isobel said darkly.

The reminder was enough to send them all running back to the basement.

 

* * * *

 

Alex had told Michael once that he wouldn’t use a crutch in Caulfield. Vulnerability was against the Manes’ family rules. It had been beaten into Alex’s body and drilled into his brain.

He was making his own rules now.

So he walked through the hallways with one leg, no weapons, and his alien in his head. It was everything his father hated and everything Alex wanted. 

Jesse Manes would see weakness. He didn’t know what Alex had learned: vulnerability brought its own type of power.

 “Alex.”

There was his father, right on cue. He stood at the end of the hallway, his face like every nightmare Alex had ever had.

“Hey dad.”

“Wyatt is dealing with the disruption in the labs. I suppose strategy was just one more thing you failed to learn.”

Alex wasn’t exactly sure what Michael had done to Wyatt, but he knew the threat had been neutralized. He let some of his satisfaction sneak into his voice. “Well gosh, how unfortunate.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes. He stalked forward. “You really think you can win?”

There were cameras in this hallway. Alex had learned the position of every one. It was for their benefit that he said, “I’m just checking on the servers.”

Jesse heard the threat in those words. He knew what Alex could do with a computer. “What have you done?”

“I don’t know, dad. What do you think I’ve done?” Alex’s tone was mild enough for an outside observer, but his father could hear the insolence in it.

He didn’t have to fake his surprise when his father moved. The man was quick and brutal. He tore the crutch out of Alex’s hand and slammed him against the wall with his hand around his throat. There were ways to get out of a hold like this and Alex had studied every one.

He didn’t use them.

“They almost killed your brother,” Jesse spit.

“Flint was a rapist,” Alex managed around the grip on his throat. “Whatever happened to him was justice.”

“Are you so deep in their control that you’d turn against your family?”

Alex looked deep into those ice-chip eyes. Nothing like his own. Put him and his father next to each other and no one would guess they were related. All their similarities had been internal, the Manes family curse of violence and abuse.

Alex was breaking that curse today.

“You’re not my family,” he said.

He wished it felt less terrifying.

 

* * * *

 

They met Max in the basement. He was jogging towards their group, obviously on his way to find them. He shooed Liz and Isobel through the entrance of the tunnel. “Let’s go, come on!”

Following Max’s orders was second nature, especially with that anxiety in his voice. Isobel and Liz ran through the tunnel door where Valenti was waiting for them. Michael was halfway through after them before he realized what Valenti was holding. 

“Max,” he said.

Max gave him a light shove from behind. “Move, Michael.”

“No, hang on, why do you have---where’s Alex?”

He wasn’t in trouble, Michael would have felt that. He had the same determined calm he’d had since this started.

So why on earth was Kyle holding his prosthetic? Why did his expression look like… _that_?

“He’s coming later,” Max said.

“What? What the hell do you mean?” That was Liz. Kyle drew close to her and murmured. She shook her head vehemently.

Terror started dripping into him.

“We don’t have time for this,” Isobel said, her voice echoing off the tunnel walls. She was a silhouette against the blackness.

“Alex is staying behind,” Max said, his voice gentling. “He has a plan and he’s seeing it through.”

“A plan where he doesn’t have his leg?” Michael said. “Yeah, no, fuck whatever _that_ is. You guys go, I’m staying.”

Max did not move out of the doorway. “He made me promise to get you out.”

Michael straightened slowly. “Well you know what they say about making promises you can’t keep.”

“Boys!” Isobel had insinuated herself between them. “Can we not do this right now? Alex told us to go, so we need to go.”

Which was when Alex’s emotions hit him. He stumbled against her.

“Michael, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Alex.” Michael could barely breathe, like someone was choking him.

He remembered Alex asking if he could block out certain feelings. _Like pain?_ Alex had asked, and Michael hadn’t thought to question it.

“Oh, I’m going to kill him,” Michael panted. “I’m going to murder him in his sleep and then bring him back to life and, and, _fuck!_ ”

He fought to manage the panic and helplessness that was pouring out of Alex in a hateful sludge. There was only one person who messed Alex up this much.

Fuck Alex for thinking he had to face his father alone. It wasn’t fair.

Michael lunged at Max.

His brother was ready for him, braced immovable. Isobel had a hold on one of his arms and was pulling him back. Michael fought them as hard as he’d ever fought anyone in Caulfield but he was weak, his powers finally depleted. He couldn’t even make Max stumble.

Isobel pulled and Max pushed, and Michael stumbled back into the tunnel.

“Don’t!”

“No!” Liz shouted.

The door shut, leaving them in the dark. Alex was the one who’d opened it last time, and Alex wasn’t here.

 

* * * *

 

His father tightened his grip around his throat. It made Alex’s brain stutter. Skip. He was back in that shed and he could smell Kyle’s aftershave and…

Goddamn it, not now.

“Where,” his father gritted out, “are they?”

“Who _?_ ”

Michael heaved in his head. Max had obviously broken the news and he was clearly keeping his promise, because Michael was too furious for anything else. It swirled inside him in a terrible blur. Alex could feel himself locking down, under threat from inside and outside.

Michael was so angry at him.

His father was angry with him too. Jesse slugged him in the stomach, and any fractured rib was now officially broken.

Alex couldn’t handle this. Michael and his father were going to ruin him. He couldn’t…he couldn’t…

No.

Michael was not Jesse Manes. Vulnerability could be strength.

Alex gathered all his trust and showed Michael exactly how much he needed him. He didn’t need Michael running in to help him win a fight. Alex needed _him._

“Tell me where the aliens are, son.” Jesse’s voice was dispassionate. Cold.

“You’re crazy.”

His father curled his fist tight in his hair and pulled hard. He used that grip to drag him down the hallway.

His hair was being pulled for the first time in so long. It was just so bad.

Alex’s mind slipped, slipped…

…and Michael caught him.

It flooded over him all at once: calm and safety and _togetherfamilyhome_.

Despite everything, Michael was right there with him, and so Alex could do this. Alex could fucking do this. 

Jesse opened a door and threw Alex inside the observation cell where he’d been held before.

His father was going to hurt him, but he knew with Michael’s absolute certainty that it wasn’t because he deserved it. It was because his father was an abusive dick.

And it was going to be the last time.

There was still a camera in the corner of the ceiling. Alex made sure to fall where it could see him. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, so it would be recorded. Michael’s confidence gave Alex the courage he needed for sarcasm. “You think I’m going to tell you where to find the _aliens_?”

“You’ll tell me,” Jesse said, with terrifying confidence of his own. “I’ll be sure to leave your tongue intact.”

 

* * * *

 

“I’m sorry,” Max said.

Michael ripped himself out of his siblings’ hands and wiped furious tears out of his eyes. “Get off me, I’ve got shit to do.”

No matter how angry he was, he wouldn’t hurt Alex. That had been a promise Michael had made.

He brought his mind back to last night, Alex telling him to breathe. He breathed and forced himself to calm. Michael opened his mind as wide as he knew how and let Alex sink into him.

He was so deeply in his head that he barely registered that they were walking. While Max argued with Liz, Michael thought about his and Alex’s kiss in the desert. He tried to send the essence of the memory through their bond.

He only gave a passing thought to the fact that the tunnel roof had turned to starlit sky above him. He did register Maria running up to them and saying, “How did it go? Guys, where’s Alex?”

Michael couldn’t pay attention to her. His mind was blown wide, completely open and attuned only to Alex. So when the pain struck, he was defenseless.

Michael dropped to the ground with a cry of agony.

“Michael!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god.”

“Get him in the car!”

Michael had told Alex he could block certain feelings and let others through. Maybe that would have been true if Michael hadn’t just spent all his energy connecting them in every way he could. The sensations from Alex had blended together so completely that there was no separating them. If he blocked out Alex’s pain, he would lose the connection entirely.

The ground beneath him was soft and it was moving.

“Can someone please tell me what is happening?” Valenti demanded.

Isobel’s voice, very close. “They’re connected again. Michael, what the hell were you thinking?”

Not the ground, the backseat. There was angry conversation happening all around him, but he didn’t care.

Maria’s voice cut through the squabbling. “Is Alex alive?”

“Yes,” Michael rasped. “Jesse Manes, he--- _augh._ ” Pain sliced through him, exactly like a bone snapping. He was on fire with it.

He shoved it down deep, keeping it from Alex. He kept their connection humming with the warmth and softness Alex needed to get through this.

“He’s hurting him.” It felt like he was talking through a mouthful of blood.

Alex could take his father in a fight. If he wasn’t defending himself, it had to be part of his plan.

If Alex had a plan, it was because of Michael.

“Michael,” Isobel said, soothing. “I need you to block him out of your head, okay? We talked about this, I know you can do it.”

“He needs me.”

“ _We_ need you!”

“I won’t leave him there alone.”

He curled into himself when the pain came again and Isobel eased his head into her lap. She carded shaking fingers through his hair. “Then block the pain at least. Please, Michael. Please!”

“Can’t. All or nothing.”

Back in Caulfield, Jesse Manes did something that made Alex want to scream.

Michael screamed for him.  

“Shut him out!” Isobel shouted. “Right now, Michael!”

“No!”

“Isobel, stop,” Max said. He rubbed Michael’s back comfortingly. “We’re right here, Michael. We’ve got you.”

Michael took the words and turned them outward so that Alex could feel them. _I’ve got you, we’ve all got you, you’re not alone_.

Through the fear and the pain, he felt Alex reaching back.

 

* * * *

 

His father had beaten him out of anger before. That’s not what this was. What he was doing to Alex now was enhanced interrogation for a very specific confession.

Usually when he was in this much pain, Alex divorced his mind from his body. But his father was asking him questions, and he had to answer with the right balance for him and the camera. He had to stay present.

“Where are the subjects?”

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

Instead, he leaned hard into Michael. He was still there, a constant stream of support flooding through him. Alex reminded himself that Michael wasn’t feeling any of this. He was probably worried, but he was safe.

It felt like it had been so long. Surely his backup should be here by now?

Jesse dropped him to the ground. Alex didn’t bother to soften his fall, there was nothing on his body that didn’t hurt. His father stared down at him. “This is your fault. I told you before, back in that lab, I can hurt him or I can hurt you. You’ve made sure that you are the only one here.”

Alex spat the blood out of his mouth, directly onto his father’s shoes.

Jesse Manes refused to be goaded. “Tell me where they are.”

And, _finally_ , the door burst open.

“What the hell is going on here? Manes!”

“Back away from him, sir. I said back away!”

Alex peered out of swollen eyes at the figures in familiar uniforms.

“Captain Manes, can you hear me?” It was a woman’s voice, sharp and unforgettable. “C’mon, Manes, you aren’t allowed to be dead.”

“’s about time, Cam,” he mumbled.

Lieutenant Colonel Jenna Cameron was an avenging angel in an Air Force uniform. She had Jesse up against the wall, his hands behind his back. “Master Sargent, I am relieving you from command.”

“You are interfering with an active military operation.”

“I outrank you so high I can barely see you. I’ve just caught you beating a member of your guard half to death, one who just so happens to be a decorated veteran and a close personal friend of mine. I will do more than interfere, I will burn this operation to the ground if I see fit, do you understand?”

“He is a traitor,” Jesse said.

“Save it for the court martial.”

“I was doing what I had to do to protect this country!”

“Get him out of here.”

His sight was blurry, but watching his father get led away in handcuffs was the most satisfying sight Alex had ever seen. When his father looked at him, Alex gave him a bloody smile.

Cameron squatted down next to him and felt for his pulse. “Can you breathe?”

“Sort of.”

“Can you sit up?”

“Let’s find out.”

She eased Alex up to a sitting position. The room darkened and then steadied.

“So,” she said, “when you called with concerns about this operation, you weren’t talking about the food.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Alex warned. “I will pass out on you.”

“We have to get you to a doctor.”

“Mission report first.”

“My god, you’re just as stubborn as you were at eighteen. Fine, only because I know you’ll sit here all night if you have to. Tell me what happened.”

It hurt to talk, but these words were the ones Alex had come here to say. “He wanted to know where I’d taken the aliens.”

“So he’s crazy,” Cameron said.

“He’s crazy,” Alex confirmed.

It made it all worth it.  

Cameron was livid. “He also assaulted a superior officer.”

“Discharged.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass. He almost killed you!”

It was nice to remember there were people outside of Roswell who cared about him. He’d had Cam’s back since basic. He’d cheered her on when she soared through the ranks. Now, the anger in her voice was more than he could have hoped for.

Plans spiraled out behind Cam’s eyes. “What kind of documentation can you give me?”

“There’s security footage of the hallway and this cell. It caught the whole thing.”

“Including the conversation where he actually accuses you of harboring aliens? Oh, I’m going to crucify him,” she vowed. “He’ll be lucky if he gets prison.”

“Thank you.”

Her teeth were barred in a fierce snarl. “It’ll be a pleasure. He’s the shitbag father, right?”

She was the only one in the Air Force who knew a fraction of the truth. “Yes.”

“Then I only wish we still hanged people.”

An airman came to the door. “Lieutenant Colonel? There’s a man asking for Captain Manes.”

Dread swept over him. Michael couldn’t be here. Max had promised.

Kyle’s face popped into view over the guy’s shoulder.

“He says he’s Captain Manes’ primary physician?”

Alex slumped with relief. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

“I heard you needed a doctor.” Kyle’s voice was carefully professional.

 Cameron studied him. “And you heard this how, exactly?”

Alex could not think of anything better than having Kyle beside him right now. “Cam, please.”

“Whatever, Manes. I don’t care who the hell he is if you let him patch you up.” Her words were dismissive, but her hands were gentle when she helped him up.

Kyle darted around to his other side, but it still took a long time and a lot of deep breathing. The room wavered and barely settled. Alex figured he had only a few minutes of consciousness left.

Kyle said, “Where do you want to do this?”

“My quarters.”

No cameras. Plus, a bed.

“We’ll need your statement,” Cameron said.

“When he’s ready,” Kyle said firmly.

“Not too long,” she warned.

 

 

Walking was white-hot agony. Michael was back in the front of his mind, probably called by Alex’s distress. It was the only thing that got Alex to his room without screaming.

Kyle eased him onto the tiny bed and Alex lay very still, letting the pain stabilize. He released his mind from its anchor and floated out of himself.

Time blurred.

He came back to the present slowly. The pain had faded to a distant static, which meant he was on heavy-duty painkillers. He could smell Kyle’s aftershave in the air. 

Alex opened his eyes.

Kyle was sitting on the side of the bed, carefully splinting the two middle fingers of his left hand. His shoulders hitched as he snatched breaths and held them, and Alex realized the guy had tears on his cheeks.  

Alex hadn’t seen Kyle cry since fifth grade.

“Hey,” he croaked, “it’s okay.”

Kyle didn’t look up from his task. “Don’t talk, you might have a damaged larynx.”

“Kyle…”

“I mean it, Alex!” Kyle’s voice cracked, but his hands were steady.

Alex stayed quiet and watched him.

Kyle finished with the splints. His eyes were rimmed with red. He tipped Alex’s head slowly to the right, to the left, testing his range of motion.

“You know, medical school teaches you a lot of words,” he said. “Contusion. Hemorrhaging. Metacarpal, phalange, true rib. But it doesn’t teach you how to apply them to someone you care about.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I could run a class. You’re turning me into an expert.”

He laid gentle fingers over Alex’s throat. “Okay, you can try to say something.”

Alex cleared his throat painfully. “I’m sorry.”

Kyle looked conflicted. “I am so mad at you right now.”

“That’s fair.”

“You can’t do this to us. I can’t---Alex, do you know how close he got to shattering your eye sockets? He almost blinded you.”

Alex tried to see it from Kyle’s point of view, but all he could see was his father in handcuffs. “It was the only way.”

“If you’d talked to us we could have come up with a plan that didn’t involve you going back to your abuser!”

“It was my problem to fix. He’s my family.”

“All right, maybe,” Kyle said, his voice defiant, “but you are mine.”

Alex had only admitted that inside his own head. Hearing the words made him prickle with embarrassed heat.

Kyle plowed on. ”Other than my mom, you and Liz are all I’ve got. I’m so tired of looking at you and seeing medical terms.”

“I had to keep you all safe,” Alex croaked. His voice was thin. His words weren’t enough.

“How about we keep each other safe, then, huh?”

Alex knew that he would always throw himself between them and pain. “It was my choice to make. I couldn’t let anyone else get hurt because of it.”

Kyle’s face did something complicated.

Alex’s heart tripped. He realized there was a very important question he hadn’t asked. “Where are the others?”

“At the cabin,” he said slowly. “They had to get Michael back.”

Alex felt a wave of relief. Michael’s emotions were quiet now, though Alex could still sense his presence. Either the drugs were interfering or Michael was blocking the mark. “How is he?”

Kyle’s expression darkened. “Man, I know we just had a beautiful moment and everything, but are you serious?”

Alex’s throat really did hurt. It forced him to whisper the next words. “What do you mean?”

“Michael is not good. You did that mind link thing right before you served yourself up to get tortured. He’s very much not good.”

“He can block pain.” Alex could barely get the words out. There was a crushing pressure on his chest, a dawning truth he didn’t want to see. “He said he could.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kyle said steadily, “but I know that he didn’t. He was screaming when I left.”

“No.”

Alex couldn’t think of anything else to say. Just a simple denial of something that couldn’t be true.

Kyle didn’t take the words back.

“No, he wasn’t supposed to get hurt. That was the point of this. That was the _point_.” Alex was a breath away from shattering. “Kyle,” he begged, “why didn’t he block me out?”

Kyle gave him a look that was compassion and steel. “He said he didn’t want to leave you alone.”

When Alex broke, Kyle put a hand on his shoulder. His silence was a mercy Alex didn’t deserve.

 

* * * *

 

When Kyle texted that he was with Alex and that the danger was past, Michael let himself surface from Alex’s mind. He blinked back to awareness on the couch in the main room of the cabin. Isobel was lying on the couch adjacent to his, asleep. Max sat on the floor between the two of them, eyes closed.

“Take it easy,” Maria DeLuca said. She was sitting on the couch next to him. Michael found that he didn’t mind her so close. When he looked at her, he felt how Alex felt about her. She was completely safe.

“You’re in your own head again,” she said. “I can see it.”

“Mostly,” Michael said quietly.

“I can’t decide if you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met or the stupidest.”

He managed a grin for her. “Shoot, DeLuca, why you gotta hold me to a binary like that?”

It made her laugh. She had a beautiful laugh, the kind that made him want to keep saying things to hear it. “Stupidly kind, then.”

“Stupid, for sure.”

She shook her head fondly. “You know, I’ve never seen Alex like he is around you.”

“You mean getting his dumb ass half-killed to protect me?” 

“That’s pretty standard Alex, unfortunately.”

“…fuck.”

“He’s lighter around you. Hopeful. Of course he’s going to protect you, Guerin, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” Maria made a face. “It doesn’t excuse what he did, letting you get hurt like that. You’d better believe I’m going to rip him a new one when he gets back.”

“Hey, that’s not on him. That was all me.”

“He lied to us,” Maria insisted. “He put himself in that position in the first place after he looked me in the face and said he was fine.”

Michael had been so angry with Alex before, when the reality of his plan had crashed in on him. He just couldn’t muster it now. Alex’s peace had sifted through along with the pain. Whatever he’d done, he’d thought it was worth it.

Michael shrugged. DeLuca had the right to feel however she did, but so did he. “When’s he coming back?”

“Kyle said they’re waiting to give a statement to the Air Force before they release them. There’s going to be all kinds of military shit.”

“Not a fan?”

“The first airman I met was Jesse Manes,” Maria said. “Leaves a bad taste, you know?”

“Oh, I know.”

Maria patted his shoulder. “Well, at least that gives us a while to plan our angry lectures. You want something to eat? I’ve got stuff for tacos.”

“Keep giving me food and you might replace Liz as second-favorite human.”

Maria pumped her fist in the air. “Tacos it is!”

 

 

A whole day passed. Michael slept through most of it, waking up only to check on his siblings (Isobel, tired and Max, wary) and eat whatever food Maria brought him.

Liz didn’t bring him food, but she did bring him the data from Caulfield that she’d pulled from Alex’s laptop.

“I want to keep my ranking,” she said.

“Back off, Ortecho,” Maria said from the kitchen.

Filtered through Alex’s affection, the women glowed.

The day melted into evening. Michael was starting to feel claustrophobic in the cabin, with Liz checking her phone every five minutes for news. There was only so much data he could sort through before he wanted to tear his own hair out. He went to the garage and got back to fixing the truck.

It was soothing, solving a problem with his hands. It chased away the memory of Wyatt’s touch on his skin, of the sounds he was making when Michael left him. It softened the memory of Alex’s pain and fear.

Yeah. Working on the truck was good. He sent a pinch of that calm through their bond. Alex accepted it with something like desperation. Air Force briefings must be rougher than Michael thought.

 Max came into the garage an hour later, just as the sun was setting. “Kyle texted Liz,” he said, “they’re on their way back.”

Michael stayed underneath the truck and kept trying to unscrew a rusted bolt. “Okay.”

“On a scale of stealing your chocolate when we were twelve to setting you up on a blind date for prom, how pissed are you at me?”

Michael gave the bolt a particularly hard twist. Damn thing wouldn’t budge. “You know why I always get so pissed with you?”

“Because I, and I quote, ‘literally hate everything you love’?”

“No. I mean, you do, but no.” He was glad he couldn’t see Max’s face for this, it was making him more honest. “You stole my candy because you thought I was eating too much sugar. You set me up for prom because you thought I was lonely. You didn’t let me go to Alex because you thought I’d get myself killed.”

“You would have!”

“Max,” Michael said, tiredly, “here’s what I need, okay? From now on, I make the decisions about my own life.”

“Sometimes you make crappy decisions.”

“Well, so do you.”

Max was quiet for a long time. The bolt finally loosened and came free. “I’ll try.”

“Try hard.”

“I said I’ll try, Michael, for heaven’s sake.”

He sounded so put-upon that Michael smirked. “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you go tell Liz you delivered her message?”

“Liz is pissed at me too.” Oh yeah, Max was definitely sulking.

“Maybe you should tell her that you respect her choices and autonomy. Bet that helps.”

“I really don’t think it will.”

“Your funeral.”

Michael worked in the garage until he heard tires crunching on the dirt outside. He could feel Alex’s closeness in his head now, like a pleasant itch that wanted to be closer. He wiped the dirt off his hands and onto his jeans---Alex’s jeans, actually---and walked outside to meet them.

It was dark, and the only light was coming from the cabin windows. It was still enough to see Valenti open the passenger door of a military Jeep and help Alex out. It was enough to see how Alex clung to him for support.

Michael closed the distance between them faster than he’d intended.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

Alex startled badly and Valenti cursed. Any other words Michael had died in his throat when Alex turned towards him.

His eyes were black and blue, his lip was split, his fingers were broken, he stood like it hurt him, he was missing his leg, he…

He looked like someone had tried to kill him.

“Michael,” Alex whispered hoarsely.

“I’ve got him,” Valenti said, in a tone that booked no arguments. “You can open the front door.”

Michael did what he was told, numbly. He’d known, of course. He’d fucking felt it. But seeing the damage was different.

When Alex made it inside, everyone was gathered to watch. Maria and Liz clutched each other’s hands. Isobel took one look and marched out of the room.

Max was the only one with any sense. He said, “Got something of yours,” and offered Alex his prosthetic.

Michael felt Alex’s relief roll over him. “Thanks,” he croaked. “Kyle…”

Valenti seemed to understand what he needed, which, fine, whatever. He moved Alex to the table so that he could prop himself up while Valenti squatted down and put the prosthetic on for him.

Michael felt instantly guilty for how jealous that made him.

Alex glanced at him, surprise on his face. He didn’t comment, too busy standing on his own two feet and feeling more settled because of it.

“Alex,” Liz said, hushed.

“It looks worse than it is,” Alex said.

It was the absolute wrong thing to say to these people.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Maria snapped.

“How could you do this to us?” Liz had tears in her voice.

Michael could see it all play out in his mind’s eye. The humans would blame and question and rage, and Alex wouldn’t see the love that motivated it. He’d just feel their disapproval and anger. He’d internalize it, just more reasons why Alex Manes was the same breed of monster as his father.

“Hey,” Michael said, loud enough to cut through the voices. “I get him first.”

When he saw Maria and Liz hesitate, he stared them down. “I think I’ve earned it.”

Maria pointed at both of them. “You better save some for me, Guerin.”

Michael offered Alex a shoulder to lean on. “C’mon, soldier. Time to face the music.”

 

 

* * * *

 

Alex started talking as soon as they reached the hallway. He explained his plan to provide evidence against his father and how Cameron fit in. “Between the footage of the assault and the testimony of the doctors swearing there were never any subjects in Caulfield, she’s got enough for an airtight case.”

“Uh huh,” Michael said, shutting the bedroom door behind them.

“The more he talks about aliens, the crazier he sounds and the safer you are. That’s why I did it, Michael, you have to know that I---”

“Do you want to sit or stand?” Michael interrupted.

“What? Um, stand.” Alex was starting to feel panicky. “Listen, I should have said this right away, but I am so sor---”

Michael brushed a thumb over Alex’s lips. It was a feather-light touch, but it stopped Alex like a shout.

Michael was studying him closely, almost like Kyle had when he was looking for injuries. But also nothing like Kyle. He undid the buttons of the uniform shirt Alex was wearing because it had been the only spare article of clothing in Caulfield. The last time Michael had unbuttoned him from a uniform, it had been the end of everything or the start of everything, depending on how he looked at it.

Alex wondered which this was.

“You can yell at me,” he said, eyes fixed on Michael’s fingers on the buttons. “I deserve whatever you can dish out.”

Michael took the shirt off him with so much care that it didn’t even hurt his ribs. He saw Michael catalogue the bruising there and then fix on the handprint, still shimmering brightly. “Your friends are dumb,” he said. “I mean, they’re smart. But they’re dumb when it comes to you.”

Michael traced the bits of unbruised skin he could find, like he was solving a maze. Alex drew in an unsteady breath.

“You’re a hero. Has anyone told you that yet?”

Alex shook his head weakly. He wasn’t.

“You saved us,” Michael said, fire in his voice. His confidence rang in Alex’s head. “And you saved yourself. He was your demon, so it was your choice how to slay him.”

“I got you hurt.”

“That was _my_ choice and I’d make it again. Just like you’d make yours again.”

Alex could only stare, dumbfounded at being so known and still forgiven. Michael’s affection for him was burning brightly enough to be distracting.

“You said you deserve whatever I say,” Michael reminded. He walked around Alex in a slow, thoughtful circle. His warm fingers touched every place on his back that didn’t ache. “So thank you, Alex. For saving me.”

“You saved me right back,” Alex managed to say. “I needed you.”

“I know.” Michael pressed his lips against the nape of Alex’s neck. “Thank you for that too.”

It was all too much. He was on a lot of painkillers and they were surely the reason he was feeling like he was floating. “You were so angry with me.”

“Yeah, I was. Got over it.”

He circled back into Alex’s field of vision. For the first time, he looked nervous. His hands drifted lower on Alex’s waist than they ever had. He grazed the button of Alex’s jeans with his knuckles. “Can I?”

“It’s fine,” Alex said, his head still spinning. “If you’re fine.”

“I need to see everything he did to you.” Michael looked at him like he was daring Alex to make fun.

Alex reached out his unbroken hand and touched Michael’s unmarked chest. “From what Kyle said, he did it to you as well.”

“It fucking hurt,” Michael agreed.

Understatement of the year.

Then Michael’s fingers were on the front of his jeans and for the few seconds it took to unbutton and unzip him, Alex stopped thinking about anything else.

Michael helped him step out of the jeans before doing another careful circle. Alex should have felt exposed, but instead he felt _seen_. He’d never realized those two things were different.

Michael’s affection was deepening, strengthening, changing into something else. Something Alex was too afraid to name, even as he felt it inside himself as well.

Michael stopped in front of him. His eyes were wide. “Alex, I…”

Alex didn’t need him to say it. He took Michael’s hand and put it right over the handprint on his chest. That new emotion flooded through them, burning away the pain.

“Me too,” Alex said.

 

 

Michael stripped off his own shirt and took him to bed, the two of them pressed as closely together as Alex’s bruised body would allow. In hushed tones, Michael told him about his fight with Wyatt and the uncertain result. Alex knew how that particular story had ended, of course, but Michael didn’t ask and so he didn’t offer.

“Did you see Jesse before you left?” Michael wanted to know.

“No. I didn’t have anything else to say to him. I figured the _leave my family alone_ was strongly implied by the impending court martial.”

“Fuck yes it was.”

There was pounding on their door. “Hey!” Liz said. “Are you guys ever coming out of there?”

Michael glared at the door and it locked itself. “I told you, I’ve got dibs.”

“That’s not fair! Maria and I had a good-cop bad-cop lecture all worked out. There were guilt trips!”

Alex tried to raise his voice so she could hear. “You can give it to me tomorrow.”

“Or never,” Michael added. “Now scram, I saw him first.”

“I’ve literally known him our entire lives,” Liz grumbled. She wasn’t actually mad, though. An angry Liz Ortecho did not simply grumble and then leave in peace. Alex turned his head to smile into Michael’s shoulder.

“We’ve been messing with the data we pulled from Caulfield,” Michael said.

“Anything interesting?”

“They talked about other facilities.”

Alex pulled back to look at him. “With more aliens?”

“We don’t know. Maybe.”

“Sounds like a road trip. With more guns this time.”

Michael gave him a relieved smile. “It does, doesn’t it?”

More knocking on the door. Kyle said, “You had better not be doing any strenuous activity in there, Alex. Those stitches are works of art.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not moving a muscle.”

Even Alex flushed at how absolutely filthy Michael’s tone was.

“Michael, I did not want to hear that,” Isobel called.

“Shouldn’t be listening at doors, Iz. He’s fine.” Michael fingered the edge of the handprint, sending sparks shivering through Alex’s spine. “Isn’t that right, Alex?”

“Fine,” Alex said steadily, shooting Michael a glare.

“I didn’t ask,” Isobel said.

“I did,” Kyle said.

Alex made eye contact with Michael and bit his bottom lip.

Michael’s eyes grew dark. “Okay cool, bye guys.”

And then he kissed Alex like he’d been starving for it. Alex certainly had been. He hadn’t thought he would get to do this again.

Another knock on the door. “Hey, do you guys want some leftover tacos?” Maria asked.

Michael groaned and broke the kiss. “DeLuca, I swear to god.”

“Sheesh, I was just asking.”

Alex felt a smile grow on his face, so big it should have hurt. It didn’t. “Tacos actually sound pretty good.”  

Michael bounced out of the bed. “I’ll get them. You stay right where you are.”

Alex never wanted to move from this spot. “Afterwards, we can plan our road trip.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, eyes bright. “We will.”

“They’re getting cold!” Liz shouted.

“Stop yelling!” Michael shouted back.

When he left, Alex could hear the chatter of voices beyond the door. Max and Isobel teasing Michael about his lack of a shirt, Liz and Kyle bickering over recipes, Maria pleading for order. Michael, fitting in perfectly, blending Alex’s old life and new life together like he’d been born to do it.

It sounded like the start of everything.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been such a fun fandom experience. Thank you all for being so welcoming and positive! I've re-read your comments so many times and, like, cried over them. 
> 
> You are all tacos of reconciliation and found-family love.


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